


Silk and Honey

by Lafeae



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harem, Alternate Universe - Historical, Concubine, Drama, Drama & Romance, Fantasy, M/M, Palace Intrigue, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2019-08-17 10:19:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 57,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16514489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafeae/pseuds/Lafeae
Summary: “You are the property of His Imperial Majesty now. This scarf says so. Forget the life you knew before, and only think to the life ahead of you. It is a privilege—you should bear that privilege in mind.”Jounouchi snorted. “Some privilege.”Jounouchi never expected his life to be turned upside down, given to Emperor Seto Kaiba as a ‘gift’, nor catch the eye of the haughty emperor. Quickly, he’s thrown into harem, already having the emperor’s favour. But there are other ladies vying for the favour and affection, too.Will Jounouchi be able to withstand the trials and tribulations that come along with being an Emperor’s concubine? Or will the other harem ladies destroy him, and his quiet love, in the process?—AU, Puppyshipping/Violetshipping





	1. Year 1, Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> I watch waaaay too many Chinese/Korean period dramas and costume dramas, particularly to do with emperors and concubines not to eventually imagine Kaiba as an Emperor. 
> 
> So this is what happened. 
> 
> I will be drawing from a lot of different cultures for this AU, along with a few fantasy elements. That being said...I hope you enjoy!

The smell, and tickle, of a magnolia petal balanced on the tip of Jounouchi's nose woke him from a dream he didn't remember. His attention was focused on the way the petal precariously bobbed in the edges of his sight, threatening to fall if he were to move one inch.

It was a beautiful thing, he thought. Too beautiful for the wooden cart he laid in. Too beautiful to have slipped through the bars of the cart that transported him, shackled, from the furthest province in the empire to the capital, Domi.

It was the right amount of beautiful for Domi.

Carefully, Jounouchi rose, his shackled hands shooting out to grab the fluttering petal before the wind took it away. There were more magnolia trees around him, he realised, but only the delicate petal in his palms had made its way through the bars. That had to mean something.

He laughed shortly and looked up to the flank of Imperial Guards that walked at each side of his cage. As if he was some wild animal they needed to protect the public from. Were he so wild, so vicious, as whatever circus animal they had him shackled like, he would have already burst through the bars.

No such luck; not for lack of trying.

One of the stoic guards looked to him, grunting. Jounouchi was quick to cast his gaze down to his floor.

"The gift is awake," a tall guard said. "Sleep well, your Excellency?"

"Piss off," Jounouchi sneered, rubbing the magnolia petal between his fingers. It helped to ignore the fat guard, jeering and laughing, striking the side of the cage with the pommel of his dagger.

"Such crude language for the son of a magistrate," said the fat guard.

"He isn't the son of a magistrate no more," the tall guard reminded. Jounouchi scowled, closing his eyes to the and ignore their talk. "Whatever kind of magistrate Jounouchi was in the first place. Doesn't even have enough money to offer to His Majesty."

"A gambler, I heard," the fat guard snorted. "The vault was all empty. Imagine that."

The tall guard clucked his tongue. "And he thinks his _son_ will make up for it? What good is this louse, eh? Ain't worth half of nothing, not if Jounouchi's about to be demoted. If he's lucky. Which, clearly, he isn't."

"Isn't that right? Be better off sending the daughter," the fat guard said. "I hear they're looking for harem ladies. Least Jounouchi could do is send that pretty thing to be fu—,"

"I can hear ya, you know!" Jounouchi growled, unable to hold his tongue any longer.

He threw his shoulders against the bars of the wagon. Even if the bars had been wide enough to fit his hands through, he knew the chains would catch. That didn't stop him, however, to try and make himself melt through and catch the fat guard by the throat. He was reward with the butt of the dagger in the eye, and he fell backwards, the wind knocked from his lungs.

Still, he clutched to the magnolia petal.

From there, he gazed up at the bright, blue, endless sky. The gentle wispy clouds, and the branches hovering above him. It helped him drown out most of the snickering conversation that followed between the Imperial Guards.

"He'll be dead by morning," was the one thing he heard that made his stomach sink. Before today, he wouldn't have believed that, but now...the sensation was growing. He _would_ be killed, what other options were there?

The guards had been right. The long caravan of offerings to His Imperial Majesty was full of plenty of things better than him. Dainty beauties to made into maids or wives. Gold, silver, precious stones. Cotton and silk. Wheat, corn, barley, and millet. The finest meats that a village or a province could provide. Fine wines and liquors for what he presumed, based on stories, was an endless collection shared amongst the elite in the Dragon Palace.

How he could only imagine what was behind those walls. Everything sealed tight behind the Lapis Gate. A world of magic, luxury, myth and legend. Where the Son of Heaven sat on a throne of gold, before the army of ministers and soldiers who were at his every beck and call; who would kill themselves with just the snap of his fingers.

Jounouchi's father had seen it, once, privileged to stand in the courtyard and await orders some twenty years ago. He described it with few words and a plethora of awed stares and sweeping hand motions, having to collect himself each time Jounouchi or his sister, Shizuka, would ask if he caught a glimpse of the Emperor or a princess of the court.

Jounouchi sighed, pinching the petal between his fingers and holding it high, letting the wind catch it as they passed through a stretch of tall arches. The noise around him was growing louder, the sounds of people milling about the morning market. So loud and boisterous; screams that slid into the laughs of children. A brief look out, and everyone had shuffled aside, their heads bowed and hands on their knees, children held tight. Even the crest of the emperor could send the people into reverence. What a wonderful and courteous man the new emperor must be.

A load of horseshit, too, he thought.

His Imperial Majesty, Seto Kaiba, ascended the throne three years ago at fifteen. There was no fifteen year old boy with any poise, or courtesy, or morality. Jounouchi was the same age. He knew what it was like to be an obnoxious and boisterous fifteen year old—he was still an obnoxious and boisterous eighteen year old!

But still, he was curious. He wanted to see what kind of person this emperor was before he died, if he died. Being dragged as some offering should have granted him that right. One last wish, to kneel before the emperor and look into the eyes of a man his age. Surely, he could see reason. His father's debts, and swift means to try and correct them, were not the fault of the son. By no means would Jounouchi beg or plead.

The cart began to slow, the raucous noise of Domi falling to murmurs. It wasn't long before they came to a stop, the first time in many hours. Jounouchi sat upright, glancing around at their surroundings.

All sound but the shuffling of footsteps, a group of monks passing by in silent prayer, had vanished. The caravan was curled around an ornate statue in the middle of a courtyard. A dragon statue, as tall as the gate they sat in front of, spiralled up towards he sky, water shooting from its mouth and pooling into stream that cut across the courtyard. The pathway surrounding it was lined with trees, the blooms in shades of pink and yellow. Barely ripe fruits hung low from the vine. It reminded Jounouchi of just how hungry he was.

Four days of travel, give or take, and he'd been fed nothing but watered down barley soup and hard ends of bread. If he was lucky enough to grab onto them while her cart shivered and shook on the road.

He licked his lips and pressed close to the bars again, wanting to reach out and grab for them, to will them to his hand. In the very least, have the semi-ripened fruits be a last meal before they executed him whatever way they saw fit for his father's transgressions.

A heavy door squealed open, and the cart Jounouchi was in rumbled forward, the caravan passing under a tall marble gate with intricate red tiling.

Once inside, a long line of women wearing pale green, accompanied by a flank of guards, opened up the doors of the caravans. Supplies were handed off to them, passed along a line until they reached one pile or another, slowly growing with each passing box.

Finally, they reached him. A single, sour-faced woman stood with her hands nearly folded at her waist. Around her were three Imperial guards, standing at attention, hands on their weapons as one reached out and unlocked the cage. Quickly, Jounouchi tucked the magnolia petal into the pocket of his loose coat, studying the woman's expression as she assessed him up and down.

"This man is a gift?" She asked.

"Yes, ma'am," a guard replied.

"And he is the son of a magistrate?"

"Yes, ma'am."

There was a brief moment, as Jounouchi slid towards the front of the cart, that the woman glared at the guard on her left with such fury that Jounouchi was sure he would melt.

"I see. So then why is he locked in a cage?" She asked.

"We...we were concerned for his safety," the guard replied. The glare continued, with the woman turning back towards Jounouchi. She reminded him, in some way, of his mother. Silently judging, with a vicious glint in her eye as if she were ready to report the transgression to his father or, as the case with this woman, to whatever higher authority she worked for in the Palace.

"Come, boy, come." The woman motioned for him to step out of the cart, as Jounouchi wordlessly followed her, pausing to hook his fingers in the corner of his mouth and stick out his tongue at the guards. Before they had a chance to strike him down, he ran up behind the woman as she opened a small set of doors to the side of a large gate. It wasn't the Lapis Gate, it wasn't a grand shade of blue like his father had told him, but it was still large. Foreboding. If that was just a simple entrance, he couldn't even begin to imagine how grandiose the main gate was.

"So...what's happenin'?" Jounouchi asked, stepping as close to the woman (and towering over her shoulder) as he could without stepping ahead. "Where am I goin'? Do I get to see Emperor Kaiba 'cause of all this or—,"

"You will refer to him either as 'your Imperial Majesty' or 'Buruaizu'."

"...right,” Jounouchi drawled slowly. Buruaizu. It sounded strange in his head, though he still attempted to mouth it as he asked: "That's...that's the Old Tongue, ain't it? Does it mean the same thing?"

The woman looked back at him, scanning him as she had before. "Look at you," she finally said, "you are an absolute mess. I can't believe what condition they left you in."

So much for getting an answer.

"It ain't nothin' much. Few scrapes and bruises."

The woman nodded curtly and began to pick up the pace, taking Jounouchi through a maze of winding halls and turns, each more elaborate than the last. Closer to the belly of the palace, in a place that was deliberately hidden from all eyes.

While Jounouchi awed at the lacquered panels, painted in shades of black and gold, red and green, fashioned into elaborate images that told a story as you walked, he was keenly aware of the people that were passing him by. Maids, servants, Imperial Guards, all hustling from one end to the other with their heads down by their eyes drawn upwards. No one looked at him; they were too focused on their mission, whatever it was. A servant's passage, a place where they could come and go unseen as they slipped into panels on the walls. Even the servant's passage, Jounouchi realised, was more beautiful than anything he had ever seen.

Swiftly, the woman dragged him into an annex somewhere in the mess of winding halls, pushing him forward. The room was hot, filled with steam, the floor a shallow pool of standing water. Pellets of lye sat in buckets in the corners.

"Come, come. Take off your shoes," she ordered. Jounouchi stepped out them, careful of the shackles on his ankles while crossing the doorway. "Unchain him, now!"

The guards jumped, quickly unhooking the restraints. Jounouchi rubbed his wrists, raw and bruised, flexing his fingers as circulation returned. As he did, the woman grabbed his coat and threw it off.

"Hey, no, I got somethin' in there!"

She inspected his coat, smelling it. "This is fine. Needs perfume. Here. Douse this in perfume and bring it back," she handed it off to another maid. To Jounouchi, she ordered: "The rest of your clothes, now. Go on. Strip."

"I...uh..."

"Strip. Now!"

Like the guards, Jounouchi jumped at her shrillness. A cat hissing, almost. He pulled off his undershirt and pants, leaving nothing but his loincloth. Her brow arched, and she jutted her chin. Reluctantly, the loin was removed, though he turned around as he did. He wasn't entirely sure, but it seemed as though the woman was laughing as he did.

All of his clothes were taken and handed off to another maid. "Take these, find me the appropriate size and colour to match the coat, and burn them."

"Burn 'em? What the hell for?" Jounouchi asked, looking over his shoulder to the woman. A bucket of warm water was poured over his head. Snapping his head back, Jounouchi covered his privates, shaking his head to the woman who had snuck up behind him. She filled the bucket again, pouring more water down his mid-section before he said another word. "Hey, hey, I got it. Give that thing t' me."

"You will have an audience with Buruaizu," the sour-faced woman began. "We will bathe you, dress you, and teach you how to act in front him. Do you know how to bow?"

"Yeah, sure. You just—"

A thick liquid was poured over his head, invading every orifice. It was sickly sweet smelling, and his tongue lapped at fine grained sugar. Someone kneaded it through it hair before dumping more water over him.

"Demonstrate," the woman ordered.

"What?"

"Your bow. Show me."

Blindly, Jounouchi turned, positioning himself away from the woman, dropping to his knees with his head on the floor, arms stretching out in front of him. "No. You are not asking a farmer forgiveness, you are greeting Buruaizu. Leave no space between your fingers," she said. Jounouchi's fingers clenched. "Good, now put the tips together, pull your elbows in to touch your side. Good, now lift your head, nose straight down; don't tuck your chin. And don't you ever, ever look up."

Jounouchi was suffocated by the humid water, his lips and nose touching it. He held back his breath until he was told to get back up, where the other woman proceeded to scrub him raw, leaving no space untouched.

"So I’m gonna get to talk to him?" he asked.

"You will bow before him."

Jounouchi shrugged. "But I'm gonna address him. For my father or...somethin' like that. Right?"

A short pile of clothes was brought back to the woman, laying in her arms and inspected. The coat was neatly folded on top. "Come," she ordered again, marching him to an adjoining room where he was towelled dry. He noticed, as the maid carefully patted his hair, that she was delicate, as if drying every strand. The sour-faced woman nudged her away, but not before the maid plucked a hair from his head.

"Oi, what the hell was that for?" he asked. She was gone.

Jounouchi didn't have time to ask more questions, with two woman winding his clothes around him from the loin up.

"When you approach Buruaizu, you will keep your eyes down, but your head up. You will not look him in the face. You are not equal to the Son of Heaven. Should you get the chance to speak, it will only be when addressed. Otherwise, do as you're told. If you are told to lick the marble, you will do it. If you are told to kill yourself for his pleasure, you will do it."

Jounouchi swallowed. Hard. "Yeah. Yeah, I figured as much."

Personally, the sour-faced woman put Jounouchi's coat on, buttoning it to the neck. A short, white cloth was wound around his neck, covering the skin, and pinned to his collar. The Imperial seal was sewn into the end of it. "You are the property of His Imperial Majesty now. This scarf says so. Forget the life you knew before, and only think to the life ahead of you. It is a privilege—you should bear that privilege in mind."

Jounouchi snorted. "Some privilege."

Shoes were laid in front of him, and he was motioned to step into them. Immediately, he gained an inch or two, though he wobbled on the soles. They were taller and narrower than his old shoes. The shoes themselves were soft inside, and unlike his old pair, didn't pinch his toes together.

Again, he was walking on command, though his strides were much shorter. The shoes didn't make it easy. They reminded him of something his mother or sister would wear, daintily balanced through the house. Especially with Shizuka was coming of age, needing to look pretty. He had already been beating men off her.

Shizuka...

Sighing, Jounouchi reached his hands into the pockets of his coat. The magnolia petal was found and rubbed between his fingers. Without anyone looking, he pulled it out and pressed it to his nose. A sweet, sweet smell. Better than the sugar in his hair.

It reminded him of his little sister. Of how she liked to play between the trees and in the sparse fields until she smelled like them. His cute little sister, who would carefully arrange flowers and paint beautiful landscapes, her brush never leaving the parchment. She was something to adore, to treasure. Something his father never noticed, and would have given away in a heartbeat. Because what good was a daughter to him, other than a lucrative marriage?

The petal was pressed to his lips, feeling the felt soft surface, licked to barely taste it before he wondered if it was poisonous.

As another door opened, and sunlight flooded through, Jounouchi tucked the petal away. The eyes that bared down on his didn't need to see what he was doing in private, thinking what might have been his last thoughts, enjoying his last comforts. He wasn't even sure what this court would be like. They taught him so little etiquette, he was bound to fail.

But the eyes were on him the entire walk across an outdoor path. People who looked more officious, wearing fine silks with different ranks marked on them. Officers of the court, the ministers who ruled the country alongside Kaiba. Buruaizu, Jounouchi kept correcting himself.

Focusing on anything was hard. He was shuddering at the looks he was given, heads raising and mouths falling agape as he passed. Someone grabbed his cuff. Others pushed in close. Only the Imperial Guard kept them at bay.

"You will be shown to Buruaizu in a few moments. Collect your thoughts," the woman said, backing away slowly. "Go when you are called."

She disappeared.

Jounouchi's heart beat heavy, rattling his ribs. His ears were hot, face broke out in sweat. He was somewhere between afraid and furious, wanting to demand freedom he would never get. Or demand a life he may never have. There were no thoughts to collect, just pictures. Flashing moments of life, of his mother, his father, his sister. Oh his little sister, as sweet as the magnolia petal wilting in his pocket. Their faces, their memories, would wilt soon too, when his head inevitably left his shoulders.

He hoped his father was happy.

Simmering in his fury made it easier to draw away from the nervousness. He wobbled back and forth and the strange shoes, finding his balance but confident that he would trip on his way in. This was far too delicate, far too grand, far too special for him. He was just a magistrate's son, nothing more.

But then the doors opened, and he was summoned by a loud crier, beckoned forth into a pavilion of light and brilliance. He'd never seen so much gold and all his life. Every wall, every pillar, every pennant hanging from the curved ceilings. The carpet, which stretched from the doorway up to the staircase of the Dragon Throne was threaded gold and blue, shimmering with each step.

In awe, Jounouchi walked, eyes meeting the ministers who sat on their knees in front of their writing tables. All of them leaning to one another, whispering softly and nodding towards Jounouchi. Some touched their heads, only to have their hands smacked by their peers until their eyes hit the floor.

At the bottom of the stairs, a stoic man with slicked back hair and eyes hidden behind spectacles held out a hand, stopping Jounouchi. The bright colours of his robes, along with the imperial crest on his breast, made Jounouchi think he was either head of the ministers, or a close hand to Kaiba.

"What is this, Isono?" A stringent voice addressed. Jounouchi searched for the source, though the top of the stairs were covered in gold and black beading, the outlines of two people present, but otherwise unseen.

"Your Imperial Majesty," Isono addressed, "this is offering from the Ne-yah province in the far west. Magistrate Jounouchi gives, in place of a solid gold contribution, the golden hair of his only son, Katsuya. He asks for your forgiveness, and hopes that you will take his son's blessing as tribute to do as you see fit."

Silence filled the hall. Isono, staring at Jounouchi, waved his hand for Jounouchi to bow. It took several moments before he got into the position, barely remembering what the sour-faced woman told him.

He was more concerned with how he was a 'blessing'.

"His son?" Kaiba sneered.

"Yes, sir."

A haughty laugh. "How cute. He gives me his only son as forgiveness. I knew I should have displaced that drunk." Jounouchi stiffened, glancing up but not yet rising. He wasn't begging, just following orders. "He's barely a son. Are you sure he's not just the family dog?"

"I'm no dog," he seethed, loud enough that he saw Isono clench.

"Jounouchi was at the understanding that his son's unique quality made him a rare and...delectable find for—"

"For what? He already barked at his master."

Jounouchi raised his head in time to see someone throw back the beads. The gravelled voice made Kaiba seem older than his years, but he had the soft face of a teen, barely grown.

That was all of him that seem soft, or teen. He stood tall, taller than most of the ministers now bowing and cowering at his booming voice. The regal air about him was hard to miss; he walked through his own miasma of pride and grandeur, swathed in robes made of dark, shimmering silk sewn with an intricate dragon design, curling it’s way through villages, each scene more of a masterpiece than the last. Everything from his robes, to his chestnut hair, contrasted the pallor of his skin. Glowing, almost effervescent white that must have seemed regal to those around him, but only seemed sickly to Jounouchi.

"Rise, dog."

Jounouchi pulled himself to his feet. "I know you're angry at my father."

"Oh, do you?" Kaiba asked. They were inches from one another. So close that, in the scant moments he looked, Kaiba's imperious, cobalt eyes were on him. "Are you sure it's him I'm angry at, dog?"

"'Course you are," Jounouchi said, his confidence wavering in his stomach. Still his voice was steeled.

"So it's not the fact that you spoke out of turn?" Jounouchi's eyes flicked down, seeing where Kaiba held a fan between his hands, squeezing and turning it until it threatened to break. "Not that I expect manners from a dog. All you know how to do is bark or bite. Your gift is wasted."

Gift.

Jounouchi was still racked with confusion. Though Isono said his father gave his golden hair as a gift, he still didn't believe it. It was just hair. But...as he looked to the ministers, the servants, even Kaiba himself, he had to admit he saw no one else quite like him.

The fan touched Jounouchi's chin, raising his head.

"Go on dog, bark for me."

"Huh?"

"Bark. Dog, bark. Or are you stupid, too?"

Jounouchi went to look at around the room, but the fan pushed his attention back towards Kaiba. If it weren't for the safety of his family, for the unseen generations to come, he would have punched Kaiba in the face.

Shaking, summoning all of the courage he had, Jounouchi barked. Yelped. Just twice, soft and low, though it echoed in the pavilion. He saw Kaiba smirk, satisfied. "Aren't you a good little doggy? Perhaps that's what I should do with you. I could chain you and you could sit at my feet and beg," Jounouchi's jaw clenched, and he went to open his mouth. Kaiba's hand caught it, finger and thumb pinching into Jounouchi's cheek. "I have a better idea: I'll make you a eunuch. Show the empire what I do to magistrates who disobey."

"Buruaizu." A woman's soft voice fluttered from the stairs.

Without turning his head, without Kaiba dropping his hand, Jounouchi looked to the source: a small woman, with eyes a paler blue than Kaiba's. Like Jounouchi, she had light hair, snow-white hair intricately tied up, pinned with drops of silver and sapphire. Another gift, perhaps. But the way she held herself, and the dazzling robes she wore, told him she was important. The Empress, Kisara, if he had to guess.

"He is not his father's son," Kisara reasoned. "And he appears quite special, like myself. It would be a shame for his...gift was never admired or utilised. If the legend is true, he is nothing without his manhood."

Kaiba's hand shifted, his thumbnail pinching deep into Jounouchi's chin. "I don't think he's the legend."

"We can't find out if you mutilate him."

Growling, Kaiba dropped his hand away. There was a lingering gaze between them, one that made Jounouchi's heart skip a beat. He was confident he saw a light blush on Kaiba's cheeks before he turned away. "Then send him to the harem."

Kisara smiled. "Of course, Buruaizu."

"And have him ready for after dinner. We'll see how much of a 'gift' he is."

Jounouchi, evenly lost, stared around the opulent room as it spun before his eyes, unsure of what had happened. He didn't know what sort of gift he was, or what he meant. But he was alive. And for that, he was grateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think! Don’t be shy. I may not update again until Love Dares Greatly finishes, but this is gonna be a new project.


	2. Year 1, Night 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience! I needed a bit of time after finishing Love Dares Greatly! I’m back in action!

The mornings in court were always draining. It always made Kisara happy to return to her chambers, moreso when, like today, she was told to wait for the emperor's arrival. She fiddled with the pins and pearls in her hair while a maid helped her unwind them, her long white hair nearly falling to her waist. She knew it was improper, as a married woman, to let her hair down in the middle of the day. Other concubines would visit her, either for greeting or just to chat; she would still receive them, her hair loosely tied up but still hanging.

Running a comb through it gently, Kisara smiled to herself. That was her privilege.

For everything else in the palace, the propriety, the manners and the etiquette, she stood as an example. The good wife that every husband wanted. Who managed the household with fairness, who was humble and kind. The others would follow her example—except for this.

Most were proud to tie their hair up, to decorate themselves in the opulent palace ways; gold and silver, gem and jade. Anything that would catch Buruaizu's attention. Kisara was happy being the exception, knowing she needed nothing beyond the long, thin strands, meticulously taken care of. She was a curiosity, sitting somewhere between myth and legend, that he seemed obsessed on figuring out. It was cute. She saw his curious, playful side when away from the courtiers, the same kind of prince that she'd slowly fallen for, despite being in a political marriage.

Kisara dipped her comb in a viscous oil before running it through her hair.

"Such a hard choice," she said aloud. Amongst the various cosmetics covering her vanity, an archive laid in front of her. Names and locations, different dwellings of all the staff and concubine who were in her charge.

"What's that, my lady?" The maid asked.

"Mm...Jounouchi," she replied. The comb was dipped again. "Did you have a chance to see him this morning?"

The maid shook her head. "I heard the gossip. Hair of gold?"

"Yes," Kisara chuckled. My, how the news travelled. "The whole palace probably knows about our new resident then. That means I need to be extra careful picking his quarters."

It should have been an easy decision. He was the son of a magistrate. A small room, perhaps sharing space with one of the lesser noble daughters. He deserved that much—anything else would be a disservice to his family. But it was precarious. She only saw a few his feelings: his ire at Magistrate Jounouchi; his long, pensive glances at Jounouchi as he was escorted from the court. He was somewhere between angry and pleased. Precarious. Daunting. She was be treading a line to place him too low or too high.

"His Majesty arrives!" Isono called.

The comb was sat down and Kisara stood, hands folded at her waist, her head bowed. The tips of the emperor's white boots came into view. "I kept you waiting," he said. Kisara raised her head.

"It's nothing. I was making plans."

Seto glided by her vanity, picking up the archive and flipping through it. "You haven't made any decisions," he said. A statement, not a question.

"I considered placing him near Consort Anzu," Kisara replied. Seto sat on a low couch, leaning against the down pillows as he read. Another page was flipped, and he hummed, giving Kisara the impression that she had chosen the wrong apartment. But she would defend her stance. "She's in need of friend."

Another page was flipped, the archive skimmed quickly. The buzz of cicadas drew Kisara attention away from the terse silence. Finally, Seto said: "Eastern Lakeside."

"But that's so far away."

"Then he won't be a nuisance."

Kisara pouted. "You're being cruel. They say that apartment is haunted by..."The archive was lowered to Seto's lap, slammed closed. Kisara flinched.

"I suppose you want me to set his title, then?" he asked. His blue eyes burned, begging her to answer with confidence. "Does a mangy dog deserve a title?"

"Anything can have a title if Buruaizu wishes it," Kisara replied. His eyes never left hers. "I suggest Honourable Attendant."

Kisara was careful. Ranking Jounouchi anything above 'Serving Attendant', the lowest ranking position out of six in the Imperial household, was a risk. All members of the harem were given a rank, usually based on their family's lineage and nobility—the better the noble, the better ranked the concubine. It made it easy to know where everyone stood, but then, there were always outliers depending on the whim of the emperor.

At the top of the Imperial household was the Empress, the main wife, tasked with maintaining order in the harem and setting an example for the others. There was only one Empress. Second rank was the Noble Consort, who shared the household burdens with the Empress and was near equal, but lacked the legitimacy of being a real wife. Like the Empress, there was only one position. It was currently vacant, a position up for grabs by the rank below: the Consorts, limited to three, who were often the emperor's favourites for whatever reason, be it graceful, clever, talented, or beautiful. The lower three positions, Lady (or Lord, in Jounouchi's case), Honourable Attendant, and Serving Attendant, were juniors meant to be guided and shaped by their seniors, and who had unlimited potential, but also unlimited space. Not that Seto had a voracious appetite. His harem was small compared to his predecessors, preferring order and simplicity. However, she saw the glint in Seto's eye when Jounouchi was first presented to the court. Never had she caught such a selfish look of hunger, quickly hidden behind a stoic mask. If it weren't for his father's foolish actions, Kisara knew she could have placed him higher.

"He must have won your heart already," Seto said. Kisara blushed, tucking her chin close to her chest. She stayed that way, waiting for something else to be said. Instead, Seto barked orders at Isono to ready rooms for Jounouchi and to grant him the title of Serving Attendant. Her heart leapt into her throat. "And make sure there are no maids. Leave him with a single servant. The last thing I need is for the dog to go in heat."

Isono bowed, handing off the orders to a lesser attendant standing outside the door. One of the entourage that followed the emperor everywhere he went. She could see the small crowd in the windows, and tried to recall their names. So many people; they were often lost in the sea of faces.

"You disagree," Seto said.

Kisara rolled her head to the side, her lips puckered. "You're being cruel again," she stated. "But it's always up to you, Buruaizu. I merely make suggestions." A coy smile lingered on her lips. She was indignant, but refused to be combative. It hadn't helped the ministers any, so she wasn't so silly as to fall into the trap of arguing with him. With knots in her stomach, she offered: "For example, I suggest a wager."

"The Empress is bargaining with me," Seto said as he stood, looming over her the knots in her stomach tightened, and she worried that she guessed his mood all wrong. Perhaps court had gone worse than she believed. The emperor's sudden, barking laughter eased her worry.

Kisara nodded. "I am. And I suggest we play a hand of cards for the wager. If you win, Jounouchi will be Serving Attendant Katsuya. And if I win, he'll be Lord Katsuya."

"Lord?" Seto scoffed. "What happened to Honourable Attendant?"

"Well, it's a wager. Might as well up the stakes."

"You should make him Consort then, if you're so keen on promoting him."

Kisara shrugged, giggling to herself as she glided to a long set of curtains, drawing them back to reveal a cozy dining room, bathed in soft candlelight. In the centre of a short table sat porcelain tea set, adorned with bluebirds and peonies. The maid hustled ahead of Kisara, setting out both cups and pouring the tea while she sat down. Seto wasn't far behind.

"Bring my deck," Kisara ordered. The maid bowed, shuffling out.

Seto unwound a small, silk pouch from his waist. While Kisara knew he was grabbing his deck, she focused on the pouch itself, hand stitched and adorned with a string of pearl beads and seashells. It was sloppy, something a child would have done for their first try. Or a fourteen year old girl offering a love-knot to her betrothed.

He fingered the shells as he cinched the pouch back. Kisara couldn't hide the blush. "You really should play with me more. I'm forgetting how to play," she said, shuffling her cards.

"I've been busy."

"I know. The courtiers are capricious."

"Hmph. You're too kind to Gozaburo's pigs," Seto replied, not hiding his indignation. He shuffled his cards and exchanged decks with her to cut the cards. The decks were handed back.

"Says the boarish man," Kisara half-chided.

Seto rolled his eyes and drew a starting hand. "The Empress isn't as clever as she thinks she is."

"Is it Buruaizu or the Man speaking to the Empress?" Kisara asked, gnawing on her lip to hide laughter, but it was hard.

There were two different people inside Seto: the benevolent emperor, Buruaizu, who's sense of duty and honour to his empire was boundless, willing to sacrifice himself in the name of peace and harmony, or so he told the citizens. The other was the Man, Seto Kaiba, haughty and wilful, who agonised over not being able to fulfill the needs of his people who, after so many years of war, were edgy in their peace, and quiet in their mistrust. They, through the ministers, let the emperor know that the people thought Seto Kaiba was, in this tepid peace, too leisurely. Dedicating himself to sciences and histories, as well as myths and legends, that hadn't been explored after so many years of violence and bloodshed. Peace was strange; maybe they would get used to it after some time.

It shouldn't have been funny. The balancing act wore into her husband, but he never complained. Instead, she found some humour in his two-faced nature. She regularly poked fun at him for it and he did the same to her. The Empress was a figurehead; Kisara was the woman.

"The Man," Seto replied. He laid out his first cards, hand-painted warriors, weapons attached. A card game of who had the more balanced army; war through cards, instead of people. All strategy.

"The Man does not speak to the Empress this way! Insolence!" She cackled.

"Hmph."

Kisara laid down a card with a dragon painted on it. "Further insolence. You won't apologise?"

"How does the Empress wish for the Man to apologise?" Seto asked, throwing setting up several defensive cards, drawing more into his hand.

Kisara pursed her lips, adding more attack to her soldiers. "The Man will let the Empress win."

"No," Seto replied. "But a valiant effort."

More laughter, muffled behind the rims of teacups and the slaps of cards on the surface. They continued to play for a long while, until both decks were nearly empty. Seto was competitive; playing the simple card game put fire in his eyes, but she knew it distracted him from worse things, and he spent time with her, too.

It was clear that he was decimating her. Attacking her soldiers, tearing down her walls. Her discard pile had grown larger than her draw pile. She knew she was going to lose, but she always put up a fight to the very end. Much better than any of the ministers.

Nearing the end, Kisara began to stall. She knew soon as the match ended that Seto would leave. There were always fires that needed putting out, things people thought only Buruaizu could handle. And though Seto urged her to 'hurry up, it shouldn't take this long' and 'I can look at your hand. I'm sure I'd make a wise decision for you', she knew he was content to wait. Just for a few minutes. Long enough that a maid brought them lunch and he picked at it while she slowly laid out her plays, only for him to destroy it.

"So mean," she chided when she flipped over her last defeated soldier. Across from it, on Seto's side of the table, was a battered card. Torn at the edges, yellowed in its corners. The gracefully painted dragon still glowed. Glistening white wings and scales, sharp teeth. It didn't even need any attack boost. A strong, rare card. Mythical. It's description was written in the Old Tongue. "You always win with that."

"And you always put all your damage on one soldier," he said. Their decks were packed up.

"He's the most useful."

"Wars aren't won with one soldier, or with brute force," he explained and stood. Kisara followed.

Kisara shrugged. "I'm just intimating the master."

"Hmph. Blaming me now?" Seto asked.

"Perhaps," Kisara replied, coy. She looked to her feet and back up again. "Maybe you could stay and teach me a little more. There's still plenty of daylight."

Seto paused in the middle of her drawing room, sighing. "I can't. There's officials from Azumai waiting in the West Hall. But you'll see me soon," he offered, conflicted that he had to leave at all. Or so Kisara hoped. He voided himself of most emotion, choosing clipped, polite tones when he returned to being the Buruaizu.

Kisara smiled, hiding her discomfort. "Join me for dinner?"

Seto shook his head. "No. I have matters to discuss with the witch."

"Consort Ishizu is a seer. Not a witch," Kisara corrected. She was never fond of how he referred to her, as if she was a monkey doing parlour tricks instead of a woman who had given up her life and country in the name of an alliance. "I'm sure she'll be happy to see you. It's been quite a while since you've visited anyone."

"Don't be like that."

"Like what?"

Bridging the gap between them, Seto stood a hair away from her. His musk was overwhelming, enough that she pulled in close and embraced him tightly just to bury her face in the crook of his shoulder. His hands rested on the small of her back. Even without the silk that covered him, Seto was soft and warm. She could hold him forever, and that would alright with her. Even if he never said another word to her.

His fingers began to weave through her hair, raking through the soft strands on at a time. They cascaded over his fingers like water, coming to rest over her shoulder or on her back until only a few woven strands were wrapped around his fingers. He brought his hand up to her cheek, nudging her head up to look at him.

"You're always the main wife, remember that."

His knuckles dragged along her cheek slow and easy, his thumb brushing over her lips. Kisara stretched up onto her tip-toes and pecked him on the jaw. A smile flashed for a second. "That doesn't matter to me. Main wife, or second wife, or concubine..."

Seto pressed his forehead against hers and cupped her cheeks. Her hair unwound from his fingers. "You're my best friend, Kisara. I will see you soon."

Kisara tipped forward, wanting to plant her lips against his before he left, but her cheeks were already cold.

The entourage passed by her window, and she sighed.

—

The breadth of the palace was far larger than Jounouchi expected, though he was feeling every bit of it in his feet. He awkwardly wobbled on the tall shoes down lengthy, cobblestone paths wide enough to be public streets. Everything was neat and tidy, with little planters sitting to each side of gold-riveted double doors. They were far and few between, like little houses lining a road, snug right behind the high walls.

Few people passed him by, glancing at him curiously before bowing their heads and scurrying along. Mostly women in similar soft-green robes, like the ones unpacking the carts earlier, or Imperial Guards making rounds.

Two guards were flanked behind him, probably to make sure he didn't cause trouble. But then there was a third man who walked beside him. A guard, maybe, but he seemed more officious. He wore robes like Isono, complete with the Imperial crest, but they were plainer. Less colourful. Some low-level courtier maybe, though he seemed too young. A upper-level guard? Or was he a eunuch?

Jounouchi shivered at the thought, his hands folding at his waist. Did he ask the man that? Was it even polite? Maybe it was polite elsewhere, but in the Palace...so many rules and customs. He hardly remembered bowing, talking, and...

"You hear me?"

"Eh?"

The maybe-eunuch stared at him. "You really oughta listen. It'll do you good around here," the maybe-eunuch advised. "Anyways, what I was saying was here's the Eastern Lakeside apartment," he said, waving his arm towards the structure. 'Apartment' seemed...incorrect. Compared to the Palace as whole, it was small. A cluster of different buildings around a square courtyard. All of it secluded behind high walls and the same tall, studded doors he'd passed by. It was colourful, but the paint was peeling; the cobblestones had weeds growing, and the flowers hung limply over their planters. "It's got its charm but...it's a hell of a walk from anything."

"You're not jokin'," Jounouchi said, carefully stepping over the threshold and wandered in. "You sure it's not haunted?"

The maybe-eunuch shrugged. "Shouldn't be," he said, following Jounouchi inside. The other guards kept a slower pace. "It's just that no one else lives here right now. So I hope you don't mind living by yourself. Mostly, at least."

"Mostly?"

The maybe-eunuch stuck his thumb into his chest. "You got me."

"Got ya? I don't even know who the hell ya are. What's your name?" Jounouchi asked. His hands dipped into his pockets, fingers rubbing the magnolia petal. He wondered what he was going to do with it; clearly, it was some good luck. That, plus his hair. But Kaiba didn't seem to care about that until the Empress pointed it out.

The maybe-eunuch flattened his arms against his sides, and he bowed at the waist. "Hiroto Honda, at your service."

"Nice t' meet ya then, Honda," Jounouchi said, and he mimed the simple bow. A simple greeting, one he did quickly for his father's numerous guests. Quickly, he was pushed upright. "What?"

Honda shook his head. "You don't bow to me."

"Why not?" Jounouchi asked. "This place is all about etiquette, ain't it? I should be bowing to ya so I don't get in trouble."

"You outrank me."

"Outrank? Ha, that's hilarious. You're funny," Jounouchi barked, wagging his finger at Honda. His laughter quickly quickly died. "You...you're serious?"

"Uh...Yeah."

"I outrank you? You're an Imperial Guard. You guys stomp all over commoners. And last I checked, 'magistrate's son' isn't a noble title," Jounouchi said. Looking back at the apartment, he was convinced that the cluster of buildings was about the same size as the family home. Maybe bigger.

"You're a concubine," Honda said flatly.

Jounouchi snorted. "Now I know you're jokin'. They don't throw a guy like me into the harem and call me a concubine. Especially since he was about to take off my you-know-what. Pretty sure that makes me a...servant. Or something like it."

The logic was sound enough to him. They didn't take some boy from a backwater province that, for some stretches of the dynasty been a disputed territory, and place him in the harem. They especially didn't take him because, unlike the governor's daughter, or the tax collector's, or even some of the upper echelon merchant's, his family wasn't considered 'noble' by any means, even if his father secured the position of magistrate. The title may have passed down through family, but it was by no means a ticket into the palace.

But Honda's constantly changing faces and babbled false starts were beginning to shake Jounouchi's well-formed logic. He, unlike Honda, was wearing a scarf that made him the 'property of His Imperial Majesty'. He was dressed in clothes fine enough that his mother might gasp. And the shoes...he didn't even want to get started on the shoes.

"Like I said: you should listen around here," Honda said. They wandered a little further in, though Jounouchi meandered aimlessly. "You're a concubine—got a royal edict and everything."

"So that's what that one crier was talkin' about," Jounouchi said, knowingly. He hadn't paid much attention to different people who approached after he was escorted from the throne room. Two women and a man had spoke to them, all of them seeming to be happy, but he was still overcoming the shock, and basking in the awe, of not being killed or mutilated. It hadn't even hit him that Kaiba had thrown him into the harem, or what that even meant. When the fourth man approached him, reading loudly from a scroll and dubbing him 'Serving Attendant Katsuya of Eastern Lakeside' he thought little of it, and bowed to receive the title. That was what people did around here, he thought. Bowed and smiled. "Servin' Attendant don't sound like a title for this. Sounds like I'm about to be scrubbin' floors."

"I mean, you're not wrong," Honda agreed. "It's also called The Waiting Attendant, I've heard. Because you're usually waiting for His Imperial Majesty to call on you."

The longer Jounouchi stewed in those words, laughing quietly at the thought, the more panic set in. Serving Attendant. Serving...serving and waiting on the emperor. In the harem. How could he be so blind?

Anger caught up to Jounouchi, though he was caught between being angry at his father or at Kaiba. "That makes no damn sense!" He exclaimed, clenching his fists and walking faster around the courtyard. "One minute he's about to kill me or...or make me a eunuch an' the next I'm thrown in here because of some gift? No one's tellin' me what's goin' on or what's gonna be happenin' to my family or—!"

Abruptly, mid-sentence, Jounouchi fell backwards, flailing the entire way down, one of the thin soles of his shoes having on the cobblestone and toppling him. Honda leapt forward and grabbed onto Jounouchi's sleeve a moment too late, crashing beside him.

"Dammit..."Jounouchi groaned. Honda scrambled onto his knees, holding Jounouchi by the arm to help him up. "I got it, I got it..."

"You alright?"

"Yeah. I just don't get what the hell's goin' on here. None of this makes any damn sense to me," he said, shaking his head and brushing his sleeves off. "Especially these stupid shoes," he reached down and yanked them off, throwing them across the courtyard and hitting an oleander tree with a satisfying 'thunk'.

"Don't blame you. Most of the others aren't happy when they get here either," Honda said. He clapped a hand on Jounouchi's shoulder and offered to help him up. "Leaving your family isn't easy. I'm right there with ya."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. My folks live in the next province over. Takes me a day's riding to get to them, so I don't get to see them very often. Usually once or twice a year, if I've got the time," Honda said. They stood together, and Honda lead Jounouchi towards the main hall.

"Took us like four or five days to get here. And that was people who knew where they were going. I'd prolly get myself lost a coupla times," Jounouchi said. He winced as he stepped, his right ankle sparking with pain where he had rolled it. "Why'd you leave your family?"

"Money. A bunch of eunuchs came through looking for young men who were willing to work away from home. I send a bunch of wages back to my family. Sometimes I send my little brother stuff I find in the market. He's got a little collection of toy horses I've sent back that are all lined up in front of the mantle," he said. They went inside, and Honda began to pull down chairs from the dining table, with Jounouchi joining in. "He's pretty much got a Calvary by this point."

"Send him some soldiers then. That way he can play with 'em. Battle 'em and stuff."

"Not a bad idea."

Jounouchi grinned. This was all going to be rather terrible, but at least he had someone. Honda seemed like a good guy, and he had already given Jounouchi an idea. Once he got his hands on some money, he would send things to Shizuka. Something like one of the fancy butterfly combs his mother kept. Or a silver bracelet. Maybe a dress for when she eventually started seeing boys. It pained him to imagine not being there to beat them off of her.

"You said five days to get here. So what's that? Ojammu?"

"Ne-Yah."

Honda snapped his fingers. "That was my next guess."

"And why would that be smarty-pants?" Jounouchi asked. He floated through the rooms, running his hand over the dust that had collected on the furniture. There was a lot that needed to be done, but it was roomy. And beneath the dust were plush carpets and hand-carved furniture pieces. One piece would have been worth a lifetime of salary, and they were just letting it rot.

"I dunno. The accent, I guess. Sounds kinda like the northerners, except you can't understand a word they say," he pinched his fingers around his nose. "'Dey schound all 'ike diss an'na can't e'en tellin' what dey 'ant."

Before Honda finished, Jounouchi was already laughing hard enough that his sides hurt. He stumbled into the couch on his weak ankle, burying his face in his hands to try and hide the tears pricking in his eyes. For the last week, he hadn't found much to laugh about that wasn't miserable. A whole-hearted laugh was exactly what he needed.

"Ah shit," Jounouchi said, trying to talk while his voice trilled with laughter. “Glad to know I'm not some weirdo from up north. I'm just a weirdo from out west."

"Hey, I didn't call you a weirdo," Honda said, hands up defensively. "But...I mean, I'm the guy in charge of taking care of you. So even if you are a weirdo, I'll deal. It's part of the job."

There wasn't going to be getting used to this. Honda was his personal servant. Probably the kind that was supposed to walk around with him and do all the minute things that were too good for the ladies they waited on. Except he didn't feel like it, he just felt like the kind of person that Jounouchi would have been with since he was a kid.

"Don't worry about takin' care of me. Just stick around. If I'm gonna be all alone like ya say, it's gonna be nice not to go crazy in here."

Honda gave a thumbs up. "That's the spirit. Now," he rubbed his hands off on a small towel hanging from his belt. "You need anything? I'm gonna go yell at the Housing Ministry to get some newer stuff in here."

Jounouchi began shaking his head, but his stomach betrayed him, crying out loudly. "Well, I mean, somethin' to eat wouldn't be bad. Preferably with meat if that's alright."

Honda arched a brow and nodded. "Consider it done."

"And make sure it's for everyone here. I'm guessin' those guards followin' us are part of this whole...thing. Might as well feed 'em."

"I like you already," Honda grinned, and he headed out the door.

For the first time in days, Jounouchi was alone. The overwhelming feeling that toppled him over before had returned, and he nervously ran his hands along the cloth of the couch, soft and slick. No matter how long he spent there, he doubted this place would ever become home. He already felt like a stranger invading someone's home or body. This had to be someone else's life, their dream come true. Some girl in a slum who looked up to the Palace and hoped one day she would be dressed in gold and jewels, being taken care of hand and foot by servants. Having whatever food they asked for and living while doing nothing.

Already, the thought of that made him grow impatient. He may have been a Waiting Attendant, but he wasn't doing to wait idly by. He was going to make use of his time and clean up the house and all it's separate dwellings. Pluck out all the flowers, and maybe even plant new ones if he felt like it. Not that he had much of a green thumb. Maybe Honda knew how to garden.

Hurriedly, he stepped out of the house to go and find supplies for his new task, only to be met with a small army of officious men lining the gate. At the front of them was Isono, glancing around the buildings before meeting Jounouchi in the eye. He bowed his head.

"Attendant Katsuya," he addressed. "We hope you're finding your home comfortable."

Jounouchi was lost, and bowed his back. Did he bow to Isono? Surely the emperor's right hand outranked him. "It's nice. We're just settlin' in."

"Good. Glad to hear it. Today is an auspicious day for you. Buruaizu will be seeing you this evening,” Isono said. He looked back to the men and motioned one of them forward. Another servant waddled Jounouchi while staring at the ground, holding out a tray with a folded cloth in front of him. Jounouchi took it, unfurling a sheer, midnight blue robe. "Someone will come to collect you and bring you to his Majesty's chambers this evening. You are asked to prepare accordingly, and dress _only_ in this."

At its full length, the robe touched Jounouchi's ankles. It’s thin nature made it easy to see his skin beneath even two folds of the cloth. He wasn't sure how to respond, and looked to Isono dumbly.

"Congratulations, Attendant Katsuya," Isono said.

Shallowly, Jounouchi nodded. Though it may have been his thumping heart causing the movement instead. "T-thank you," he said, which seemed to make them turn to leave. "I think..."

Jounouchi waited until they had all left to move from his place, numb and breathless, the robe balled up against his chest. He was seeing the emperor. In the evening. As a concubine. He wasn't sure whether to feel excited, knowing it was the 'privilege' they spoke of earlier, or scared because it was his first time.

He chose the former, thinking that it would also be possible bargain with the emperor if he got close. Maybe no one else would be around.

With that in mind, Jounouchi turned to head back in and find the words to say to Kaiba, but he stopped mid-way. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a small child with a mess of black hair lingering at his gate, peeking into it. By the time he turned back, the child was gone.

Strange. But what in the Palace wasn't?

—

Nightfall came fast, the Palace walls aglow as servants ran about lighting hundreds of lanterns hanging from the walls. Jounouchi barely noticed them run by his own gate, seeing blurs as he 'prepared' himself.

As the sun set, an old woman showed up with a tray of different jars and bottles, urging him to sit as she scrubbed his hands and feet in a rough cream before washing them in rosewater. She gave him a wet towel, miming for him to run it over his face and neck while she went to work on cleaning up his nails. 

This is all seemed unnecessary and antiquated. The kinds of preparations he only heard in stories, and he told the woman as much. She didn't reply, or even seem to hear him as she worked her way through every bottle on the tray. After, she motioned into her neckline, pulling at the collar of her robe and motioning for him to disrobe.

"This?" Jounouchi asked, and he retrieved the robe, displaying it. The old woman nodded.

Slowly, he backed into the bedroom, closing the double doors. His forehead rested against them while he ripped the jacket off,  and threw it onto the bed. After, he lifted and took off everything else just as fast.

This was for his freedom, he thought as he removed the loin. This was so he could back home, he thought as he put on the sheer robe. It hung loosely from his shoulders and caressed his hips. The belt barely knot together, just enough to not expose himself.

Before leaving, he folded his clothes on the bed, but stalled at the jacket. He plucked the magnolia petal from it's pocket and hid it beneath his pillow, just in case they took his clothes while he was gone. He needed that petal. That was...well, his sister, his supposed. A reminder of the outside world. Of life.

It wasn't long before a procession of men in red came to collect him, forming a square around him as they guided him out the door.

"Congratulations, Attendant," they chorused.

Honda flanked far behind, and Jounouchi kept looking back at him for assurance. The guard nodded to him, giving him brief smiles. He looked as uncomfortable as Jounouchi felt.

The procession began a long trek back they way they came, joined along the way by four men carrying bulbous, red lanterns that hung over Jounouchi's head, as well as several more carrying bright yellow banners to each side of him. Something in the Old Tongue, something he couldn't decipher, was written on them. Jounouchi entertained the idea that it was lewd just to amuse himself.

Anyone else on the road immediately shuffled to the side and chorused 'Congratulations!' as he passed by.

Jounouchi's cinched the robe closer to his chest, keeping his head up and his thoughts as positive as he could. This was for freedom. This was for bargaining. This was for...everything. He wouldn't (couldn't) be scared, but he shuddered out a breath as he looked up to an ornate, well-lit pavilion with blue tiles on its roof. It was in the centre of the lake, connected in each cardinal direction by long bridges. An appropriate place, he thought, in the centre of the all the concubine's apartments, for the emperor's chambers. Indulgent and decadent.

Jounouchi began across, looking anywhere but forward. His attention was taken by sparkling water beneath him, illuminated by floating lanterns drifting by. Were he alone, he would have stopped to admire them, wondering how they managed to move  along without the water extinguishing them. 

The procession suddenly stopped halfway across the bridge as someone approaching from the other side.

"Bow to Consort Ishizu, Attendant," one man whispered. Jounouchi did, looking up briefly to woman standing before him.

"Please, rise," she said. Her voice deep, silky smooth with exotic lilt on her tongue. "This is your night, Attendant Katsuya. Congratulations."

Jounouchi lifted his head, drinking in the exotic woman. Sun-kissed, with dark hair and eyes. The very contrast of the glowing Empress. But she still had beauty all over her. A diadem tucked beneath a headscarf; gold and silver bangles hidden beneath the long sleeves of her loose fitting robes. She seemed to be conservative, showing very little of her angular body, but when she approached, and her hands raised to his face, he saw that she had a ring for every finger.

"How marvellous," she murmured. Her fingertips touched his cheeks, turning his head side to side as she looked over him with wonder in her eyes. Her fingers brushed through his hair briefly before returning to his cheeks. Her wonder vanished as she closed her eyes. She hummed, her lips parting, and her face contorted to something pained while she shook her head and muttered inaudibly to herself. "Ahh...how very interesting. You have quite a future."

"Future?"

Ishizu's hands fell away, though her discomfort remained. She looked away from him, her gaze following one of the floating lanterns. "It's nothing. I've kept you from your night. Best wishes," she said, half-heartedly. As if she knew something, but refused to say. The procession continued once she left.

His heart began pounding. Did she really see into his future? Her smile was queer and unwanted, as if she was trying to warn him that something bad was about to happen tonight, but couldn't find the words.

The doors to the pavilion opened, and Jounouchi climbed the stairs, wincing as he put more pressure against his weak ankle. His nerves stalled him at the top, telling him to run away from all this and jump into the lake and swim to freedom, or drown trying. But when he looked back, the procession following him all bowed. Even Honda. So he stepped inside, the doors slamming behind him.

A maid took him by the hand and lead him through a series of rooms. Thecolours and patterns of the paintings, the carpets, the flowers, all blurred together. He was sat on a feather bed covered in red and gold blankets, with two round pillows side by side. Candles flickered on the night table next to a pot of what smelled like wine.

Jounouchi sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, shuddering.

"You aren't the first to tremble in my bed," Kaiba commented. He came from a side room, fiddling with his belt. It dropped to the ground. "But you are a sight compared to the others. And you're still brave, looking at me straight on."

"I figured that's because we..."

Kaiba held out his hand. "Don't speak. Not yet."

Jounouchi's jaw clicked shut. He told himself to try and be polite. To save his words to try and bargain for his freedom. But he found his eyes wandering to Kaiba, at the way his robe flowed behind him. His nightclothes were thin. Jounouchi had been right earlier—the man was small under all those layers. Long, lithe legs, with thin wrists and ankles. Though he still looked severe and commanding, he felt less larger than life. A mortal man, human and approachable. Not half bad looking, either, if Jounouchi looked beyond his domineering attitude.

He poured two cups of the wine, passing one to Jounouchi. "This will ease your nerves."

"I'm fine."

"And disobedient," Kaiba scolded. "What did I just say?"

"Don't talk," Jounouchi said. He took a sip of the wine, strong and bitter. It burned all the way down. "I haven't always been that good of a listener, though."

"Obviously." Kaiba rolled his eyes and sat down on the bed, sinking Jounouchi closer to him. Shoulder to shoulder. Thigh to thigh. He threw back his wine, setting it on the nightstand and taking Jounouchi's when he finished. His hand rested firmly on Jounouchi's knee, pulling the robe up.

It had to be the wine making his heart flutter; he'd snuck sips of mead and beer back home, when his father wasn't looking or he was running through town, but he'd never had this wine. This wine was the kind his mother drank sometimes that made her giggle endlessly. It would probably take a few more cups to get him that way, but Kaiba didn't offer. Instead, it did enough to calm his nerves to the situation. How generous of the emperor.

A gentle kiss was planted on his cheek. "Undress," whispered into his ear.

He untied the robe and opened it up, Kaiba's cool fingers slipping onto his thigh. He was acutely aware of how much this was his first time, completely unfamiliar with the feeling of someone's hands so intimately caressing him, helping him take off his robe.

Kaiba pinned him on the bed, his fingers dancing along every sinew of Jounouchi's body, brushing along his ribs and pitting his stomach. Kaiba seemed like a coarse man, but he had a delicate touch that lapped around the more sensitive patches of skin, making Jounouchi writhe and squirm.

"Your hair and eyes are almost the same colour in this light," Kaiba said. The pads of his thumb kneaded small circles in Jounouchi's inner thigh. "The question is now: how do I find your gift?"

As Kaiba pressed harder, drifted closer, a mix of warm wine and arousal swirled in his stomach. He was enjoying this intimacy and attention from someone clearly skilled. Moreover, his body was enjoying it; he was erect and biting his lip to hold back groans. But still, he worried. About Ishizu's half-hearted best wishes, about his own newness to this whole situation. He didn't want to be afraid. Kaiba was slow and generous, watching him very measured while he inspected every part of Jounouchi like he was looking for writing on his skin, but he had never been so scrutinised.

When Kaiba's hand danced up Jounouchi's erection, however, he stalled. Heart hammering, caught somewhere between wanting and fearing. He let out long, steady breath to ease himself into this.

Suddenly, the cool touch fell away. "You're not ready," Kaiba deadpanned.

“No, I...”

"I'm not about to force myself on you; I'm not that sort of man," he said, shifting over to the side of the bed.

Jounouchi sat up, balling the robe close to his body. "That”s not what I..."

Kaiba reached out and gripped Jounouchi's chin in disappointment. "Don't lie to me. I can see it in you; you're still afraid of me," Kaiba said. Jounouchi heard the sad tone in his voice, and began to question it.

Jounouchi grit his teeth as Kaiba walked out of the room, slamming his fist into the bed. Stupid. It was going well and he'd sent the wrong message somehow, some way. He didn't even know how.

Or maybe Kaiba was right. He was afraid. He had been afraid from the moment he stepped into the Palace, but was keeping his head high. He wasn't sure if he was grateful or ashamed that it was Kaiba noticed. "So what happens now then?" He asked when Kaiba returned. Swallowing his frustration, he looked at Kaiba directly.

The emperor sneered, returning the glance. Though the man was stoic, but his disappointment sagged around his mouth and in his shoulders. Like he was missing something he wanted. Badly. He pressed an open palm to Jounouchi's face and turned it away.

He stood, leaving Jounouchi alone to ponder what that look even meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...hm...curious things happening?
> 
> It’s definitely not going to be an easy road, but there’s a lot planned I assure you. And a whole cast of characters. That said, obviously some smaller ships will show up. They won’t be the focus, but they will exist. 
> 
> The ranking system is based on Qing dynasty China, but simplified? Usually each of those ranks was more or less a job, and the higher the rank, the more powerful the concubine. 
> 
> jou’s walk to the Palace is a mix between Chinese and Turkish, where they were prepared as then sent for their first night. I’m pretty sure Chinese concubine were actually wrapped in a blanket and carried to the emperor. Maybe. If I’m remembering my facts. 
> 
> Anyways! Tell me what you think. :3


	3. Year 1, Early Spring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve never wrote 7000 words so fast.

The walk back to the apartments had been long and quiet, the air filled with apprehension and distrust. The guards kept their eyes down, and Honda said nothing to Jounouchi in spite of the blond's frequent looks. Something terse was on the servant's face, but once they reached the apartment and Jounouchi redressed, Honda smiled.

"It's alright, you know."

"What is?"

"Tonight."

The comforter was rolled back for Jounouchi, and he plopped down on the bed, sticking his hand underneath the pillow and feeling for the petal. He rubbed it between his fingers.

"I dunno about that. The guards were talkin' to each other 'bout how quick it was," he mentioned.

Honda shrugged, and he reached into a chest to pull out a a pillow and blanket. At the foot of the bed was a long, cushioned bench that he fashioned into a makeshift bed. "Word gets around here pretty fast; the guards and eunuchs pretend like everything's a secret, but information around here is like gold. So everyone's always whispering to each other."

"So everyone knows already?"

Honda laid down and folded his hands on his stomach. The tenseness twitching in Jounouchi's body made it hard for him to even try to lay down. He sat upright for the longest time, digging his nails into the backs of his hands while the effects of the wine wore off. He contemplated what he could have done differently, how he could have reacted in response to Kaiba's sensual touches. He had, effectively, denied the emperor.

He thought about that until he became dizzy from sitting up in exhaustion, eventually passing out.

Even if the silk-soft bed, Jounouchi's sleep was uneasy. He was plagued with nightmares of the bumpy road to the palace, the sneers of guards with swords at his throat, and Kaiba cutting his thumb across his throat to order them to gut Jounouchi open.

Startled, he was awoken before the blade cut into his skin, and frantically searched for the source of his waking. Honda stood overtop of him, hands out and waving to calm him. "Wha...what's goin' on?"

"Are you alright?"

A few shuddered breaths rippled through Jounouchi as he was helped up. Sweat had stuck his shirt to his back. "Yeah. Yeah, jus' havin' some wild dreams is all. What's uh...why am I up so early?"

It was daylight out, but only just. The dull, blue-grey morning sky cast calm shadows into the apartment. He figured, as a concubine, he had the luxury of sleeping whenever he wanted, for however long he wanted, so long as he didn't sleep through the emperor calling on him.

"I had to get you up. After you have your first night with His Majesty, you have to formally speak with the Empress prior to morning greetings."

"Mornin' greetin's?"

Jounouchi flopped out of bed and pulled the sticky night shirt off, though he wasn't sure what was left to wear. They'd dressed him in fine layers that matched the spring coat he'd worn into the Palace, but his only other belongings consisted of the sheer nightgown pooled on the floor by his bed. He kicked it away.

"Yeah. Except for the Resting Day, you're required to greet her Imperial Majesty," Honda explained. He nudged Jounouchi towards a small alcove in the back of the apartment. A lavatory where a bowl and steaming pitcher sat amidst a shallow, ceramic pool, separated by a chipped lacquer partition.

Instinctively, he filled the bowl with water and swirled the washcloth in it. The curtain slid closed behind him, with Honda's boots visible just beyond.

"Why do I say?" Jounouchi asked.

"Just...bow to her, essentially. Wish her good morning. Things like that."

"That all?" Jounouchi's fingers danced between different bottles sitting on a crooked shelf. They, unlike the shelf, were new. "Seems easy enough. Rest of the day t' myself after that?"

"Pretty much."

He sniffed several of the bottles before picking one and smearing the washcloth with it. He bathed as thoroughly, ridding himself of the sticky mess of sweat and lathers they had used on him the night before. Maybe if he scrubbed hard enough, he could wash the embarrassment away, too. Not that the Palace was going to let him live it down. Surely, he wasn't the only concubine who had ill-performed on the first night.

"Do I have t' tell her I failed?" Jounouchi asked as he stepped out, wrapping himself in the jacket.

Honda had left, though the front door was wide open. There were shadows floating around outside. Half a dozen or more men coming through his gate and leaving boxes and chests by the stairs while Honda organised them. Some of them were sent to the smaller buildings surrounding the apartment.

Quickly, Jounouchi dressed and headed out. "What's all this?"

A servant knelt before him and displayed a tray with rolled bolts of vibrant clothes. Red, green, purple, and sapphire blue. Intricately designed on with scenic landscapes, tender birds, and flower petals. One had a wave flowing along the edges and sweeping into a village.

"Presents from your Sisters," Honda replied.

Sisters. Jounouchi's lips flattened, and he ran his fingertips over the cloth. "The...other concubines?"

"Yeah. They're welcoming you," Honda said.

It felt delirious. All the strange gifts of clothes, vases, fans and cosmetics. And plenty of jewellery. Thick and thin rings, bracelets. Hairpins shaped like gentle blossom branches and fierce necklaces like dragons, fashioned from kingfisher and silver. Fans made of lacquer and mother-of-pearl. He didn't have time to look through it all, though he poked in each of the boxes to get an idea of what all was sent.

"I'm sorry!" A short girl cried as she ran through the gait. She pushed by the eunuchs and quickly dropped to her knees in front of Jounouchi and Honda, displaying a round serving box. "Forgive my lady for her lateness, Attendant. These are—,"

"Miho's strawberry cakes!" Honda tripped over himself to reach the girl and pick her up. "Apology accepted. Right, Attendant?"

"Uh...sure?" Jounouchi replied with his brow cocked. "An' call me Jou. S'what everyone calls me."

Blush covered Honda's cheeks as he took the serving box, peering inside and chortling to himself. After, he bowed to the maid. The entire exchange baffled Jounouchi, but he couldn't help but smile as Honda rubbed the back of his head and walked the maid back to the gate, talking her ear off.

When Honda returned, he opened the box to show Jounouchi. Neatly arranged on a plate were little red cakes sprinkled in coarse sugar and topped with dollops of white cream. "From Lady Miho," Honda said. "She likes to cook, and these are the best you'll ever have."

Jounouchi took one and ate. Like heaven enveloped in a feathery crust. He happily took another, before offering one to Honda.

He ate it in one bite. "These are my favourite. She used to give them to Consort Anzu all the time."

"Have as much as ya want, then," Jounouchi said.

Honda blinked. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." The plate was greedily taken and laid out, with three gone in an instant. Jounouchi snorted, revelling in Honda's happiness. At least one of them could take pleasure in the small things.

They went back inside once the procession of gifts ended and everything delegated to different rooms of the apartment. Honda quickly changed tone, wiping his jam covered fingers on his trousers.

"Alright," he said, swallowing the last bite, "we gotta get you presentable. So, what colour are you feeling today?"

Jounouchi shrugged. "Whatever, I guess. I'm not good at that sort of thing."

Getting dressed became as much of a hassle as it had been with the sour-faced woman, and Honda seemed unflinched by helping Jounouchi with all the buttons and fastens of the varying layers. First was a thin under layer of lounging clothes and loose pair of pants that swam at his knees and, without shoes on, pooled around his feet like a dress. Next was thicker top with cinched sleeves embroidered in silver ringlets. After came vest that hung mid-way to his thigh, buttoned at the collar. All of it was cinched together by several feet of a satin sash, pinned down with a heavy silver clip.

Looking it over in the mirror, Jounouchi languished to the thought that he's become his father, who was dressed by his mother every morning before he left for work.

Honda patted his back. "There. Should be good in a pinch. At least until the nicer things can be sent to the Seamstresses."

Nicer things. This was casual, Jounouchi concluded, but good enough for an Empress.

The scarf was wound around his neck, and he stepped into the tall shoes when Honda laid them out for him. A feather fan was passed to him as he headed out of the apartment, limping along the long paths towards Kisara's apartments, blaming the ridiculous shoes for the pain in his ankle.

He was passed off to a long-nosed woman at the door, and he looked back at Honda longingly. The servant shook his head. "Women and eunuchs only. I'll be here."

Well, that answered that question.

Jounouchi was escorted into a long, open parlour, full of low-sitting chairs that encircled a bronze brazier. Sweet incense floated from it, pluming to the ceiling and swirling to form the shapes of different animals. At the far end of the room, the Empress sat on a chair higher than the rest, an unreadable expression on her face. Had she heard, too? She opened her arms to him, and he stepped in front of her, kneeling on a pillow and bowing.

"Rise, Attendant Katsuya. Tell me, how was your night with Buruaizu?"

Jounouchi glanced up at her before looking to the floor. He tried to sum up the words of his failure, but the nightmares came crawling back.

"You can speak."

His heart pulsed behind his tongue. "It...wasn't a night, Your Majesty."

Kisara's immaculate expression cracked, and the hard lines of her cheeks and severe curve in her eyes softened to a gentle understanding. Like his mother, strong but kind. "I had worried about what I heard."

"Ya heard right. I...," Jounouchi cleared his throat.

Kisara took a deep breath and rose from her chair, kneeling in front of Jounouchi. "You can be honest with me, Attendant," she said, and took his hands in between hers. She was a tiny woman. A head shorter than him, so small that her hands couldn't enclosed his. But her palms were soft and warm. Friendly. As if the Mother of the Nation wasn't kneeling in front of him and reassuring him, but instead it was a kind aunt, or a grandmother.

Jounouchi's ears burned. The embarrassment still churned in him. "It jus'...I thought I was ready an' he said I wasn't. That's really all there is to it."

"I see." Kisara's thumbs rubbed the back of his hand. "Buruaizu is wise but impulsive. I was afraid that rushing you into this would end this way. The Palace is a different kind of home from what most are used to. You look like you're ready to go back to bed."

"...I s'pose."

Kisara giggled. "Then I'll be merciful today. No sermons."

"Much appreciated," Jounouchi replied. A little smile formed on his face. "I jus' guess it's sorta scary. I don't know what's gonna happen next."

"Mm. Nothing. Not that I know of at least. After this you're free to go on with your day."

"O-oh. Alright."

A little more laughter tittered from Kisara. She demanded a regnal personality, high-borne and haughty, but there was a little girl behind that persona. She patted his hand. "You seem very kind, Attendant Katsuya. Keep that about yourself. And if you ever need anything, you can come and speak to me. Even if it's just to be honest."

Jounouchi nodded. "Thanks. Really."

"Of course." Carefully, she rose and pulled Jounouchi along with her, though he stumbled against his swollen ankle. "Ah, are you alright?"

"Yeah. Jus' ain't used to these shoes yet."

"I don't imagine so." A maid guided Jounouchi to sit on a low chairs farthest from the Empress's seat, with his back facing the door. "I'll have a physician sent to you after this."

"Oh, you don't gotta do that, I—"

"Take kindness where you can find it, Attendant," Kisara said. And he could almost hear her say: 'it may be in short supply', though he could read nothing on her face as it returned to a set expression.

It wasn't long before more bodies began floating into the room. Women walking delicately in pairs, holding onto the hands of their maids as they were guided to their seats. They were all dressed like little flowers, colourful and in full-bloom in the spring sun, and all wore the same scarf that he did. He recognised Consort Ishizu as she took a seat closest to the Kisara. Across from her was a winsome brunet, her hair swept around her ears and pinned beneath a circlet.

"Consort Anzu," Ishizu said, head bowed.

At the same time, Anzu addressed: "Consort Ishizu."

Five others floated in and took their seats, their backing out of the room. They each began to greet one another, and while he didn't catch many names, Jounouchi distinctly heard 'Lady Miho' in response to a lavender haired girl, young and demure. He would never remember all their faces. They were just as beautiful as their surroundings, though he wondered if they would one day blend in.

The greetings were simple. Bowing shortly to Kisara and wishing her good morning. She welcomed Jounouchi into their midst, prompting a chorus of 'hellos' and curious questions formed a harmony, though he answered none when Kisara moved on to Palace affairs.

"The harvest has been poor this year. You'll notice that there isn't as much of some favourite foods, so please be fastidious and courteous to one another, especially with red berries and spices. In the upcoming weeks, we will be preparing for the Orchid Festival. With Attendant Katsuya amongst us now, we will redraw names for gift giving and duties. This will be set-up in the next few days," she said.

Other things were talked over, devolving into light and lively chatter about weather and the which flowers were blooming, which set off complaints regarding the gardeners and the Housing Ministry, the state of the many lakes and ponds, the eunuchs and the kitchens. All of which Kisara took in stride, her maid taking meticulous notes. There was only one person besides Jounouchi who didn't speak—though he was too busy drinking in everything, making a mental note to explore every crevice of the Palace that he was allowed—and that was Ishizu.

Her owl-like eyes roved about the ladies, focusing without blinking while fiddling with a strange-shaped necklace; a third eye around her neck that he hadn't noticed the night before.

It was only when she caught his eye that a chill shot down his spine. Had she really seen his future? There were plenty of mythical and mysterious things in the world, not unlike the incense swirling into the animals above their heads, but he wondered if she was a true seer and not like the charlatans who passed through town in their janky carriages, selling fortunes for half a silver or a loaf of bread.

After a long bout of not blinking, a wry smile curled onto her cheeks. Jounouchi forced himself to look away, listening as Anzu rambled on about her plans for the Orchid Festival. "Please, please let me lead the entertainment," she begged.

Briefly, Jounouchi looked back to find Ishizu's stare had hardened, her fingers pressed to the necklace. She turned away when Kisara addressed: "Please, Consort Ishizu, I need to speak with you. The rest of you are free to leave."

"Thank you, Empress!" they chorused.

Never had Jounouchi been more grateful to stand and leave. "Ah, Attendant Katsuya," Kisara said, stalling him. "Forgo greetings until after next Resting Day; your apartment is a far walk, and I'd hate for your ankle to end up worse."

Jounouchi turned to her, bewildered by the command.

"The Empress is being very kind, Attendant. Thank her properly," Ishizu said, and she held her head high, expectant. "Well? You'd be rude to your seniors?"

Kisara glared to Ishizu. "Consort, he's unwell."

"Which does not excuse him from having proper manners in front of yourself or Buruaizu," Ishizu said. She held out her hand to command Jounouchi who, begrudgingly, eased onto his knees. "You'll hurt him worse by coddling him."

"If you say so."

Ishizu left Jounouchi in the bow for several minutes before finally allowing him to rise. Numbly, he stumbled out of the sitting room and back to Honda. His body was worn out and yet he had done nothing. He needed a long nap. Maybe until tomorrow morning.

—

It pained Kisara to watch Jounouchi struggle to limp from the sitting room with utter confusion on his face. She knew that Jounouchi was at a disadvantage in comparison to the ladies many months, or years, of studying. He seemed deft in his learning, content to be quiet and take everything in without asking questions, following commands with some poise. The grace would come later.

The decision to make him kneel through Ishizu's instruction was difficult. "There was no need to make him suffer," Kisara said.

"You didn't stop me."

"Because you're right. He must learn manners. But we are teachers, not dictators. He needs to look up to us for guidance."

"I am giving him all the guidance he'll need," Ishizu replied. "I saw the sort of person he is and will be. Buruaizu was right to call him a dog—he is not much better than a wild animal. Which means he's going to need a strong hand to shape him."

"So it should be yours?"

"If yours will coddle him, then yes. Buruaizu trusts me to watch over the juniors, after all." Ishizu shrugged. Kisara's jaw clenched, and she was happy to turn her attention to a maid delivering them both a tray with a small bowl of coffee and blueberry biscuits.

"I'm not coddling him," Kisara said.

"No? He's been here a day and suddenly he doesn't have to come to greetings for a week? If I were a meaner person, I would say that you're trying curry favour with him by sparing him the embarrassment of his failure."

"It's good you're not mean, then."

"Absolutely not," Ishizu replied.

Kisara ignored the insult. It was a minor, baseless accusation not worth her time. So long as Ishizu was favoured, it was easier to save face by allowing for the Consort to say as she pleased. In the end, Buruaizu's opinion was the only one that mattered. She wouldn't stoop to the concubine's squabbling unless it was to play referee.

They sat in a calm silence for several moments, with Kisara keenly aware that Ishizu watched her every moment as she prepared the coffee with cream and finalised the reworked details of the Orchid Festival. My, how impetuous. Several times, her head maid tried to comment 'how dare she speak to you this way?' but Kisara hushed her and sent her to deliver the Festival plans to various ministries for supplies.

Ishizu no longer looked at her. Instead, she delicately picked at the biscuits, stirring them in her coffee before eating behind her hand.

Swallowing, Ishizu asked, "What did you need to speak with me about?"

"I...wanted to see if you were doing well. We haven't spoken much since the miscarriage."

Ishizu's smile fell to something malcontented. "The doctors say I'm well," she said, and rested her hand on her stomach, stroking it gently and feigning flattening her skirts.

"But are _you_?"

There had been plenty of opportunities to speak to Ishizu during the past few weeks of greetings, long after she'd been released from bedrest, but Kisara wanted to give it time and allow for Ishizu to get back into her duties before it was brought up again.

For those weeks, Kisara saw a shell of the Consort. When they learned the good news, the entire Palace celebrated. The first child of the new emperor, the prince who might reign on high. She'd been praised and rewarded, basking in all of Kaiba's attention. The pressure of producing an heir had fallen to the wayside.

Ultimately, they'd were careless in their excitement and celebrations, or else the miscarriage wouldn't have happened. Because for how devastating it had to them as a family, Ishizu took it further by punishing herself with solitude while on bedrest, barely allowing a maid to tend to her. Her extended grief and solitude had been permitted, but when it became extensive, it took Kaiba personally visiting her to pull her out of her apartments.

What limited knowledge Kisara had of Ishizu's eclectic culture told her that losing a child was akin to losing a god. "Children are the light of the world," Ishizu told her fondly when they reported the good news. She wondered if this was something she could ever recover from.

"I've...made my peace," Ishizu replied. "I named my son and buried him with His Imperial Majesty's blessing."

"That's wonderful to hear."

Ishizu ate another biscuit. "He says I am young; there will be plenty of chances for more."

"And if it happens again, we'll celebrate," Kisara assured. “And it will happen.”

Ishizu bowed her head and lifted the coffee bowl to her lips, sipping at it. "I asked His Majesty to restore my name plate during the Seeing session last night," Ishizu said. "Hopefully I'll be called on this evening."

Kisara smiled, strained. It was too soon. "With luck. But take care of yourself, first. Please."

—

Not long after Jounouchi returned home did a physician come to tend to him, wrapping his ankle tight bandages and woven reeds. It was completely unnecessary, Jounouchi thought, because so long as he wasn't wearing the ridiculous shoes, he could manage. He'd had far worse scraps with local thugs back home, but he minded Kisara words.

For the next several days, Jounouchi wandered the perimeter of his apartments barefoot and scoped out the dilapidated buildings. He kept a rag on his belt and a broom in his hand, dusting most of the furniture and poking at the cobwebs until they broke, enlisting Honda to help him squash the swarms spiders while he chased out any animals who had made a nest in the broken boards, sweeping out their hay and droppings. He cleaned the windows, polished any fine metal surfaces hiding beneath the rust and mould, and scrubbed every surface imaginable, all while in full outfits like the he wore to greet Kisara, because as Honda explained, "Anyone could show up. Might as well be presentable."

As presentable as dirt and silver polish was. But it was honest work.

Without the help of the Housing Ministry, they'd managed to make the place presentable in three days. Now, they worked on gardens; any dead flowers had been pulled and pruned, with new seedlings placed in the planters and little flowers dug into the square gardens in the front of the courtyard.

"You can let me do this, Jou," Honda said between swings of a hoe.

"I'm a'right."

"Yeah, but aren't you s'posed to be resting? That's what the doc said."

"A little exercise never hurt no one. 'Sides..."his toes pinched the dirt between them, digging into the moist, muddy grains. "Reminds me of bein' a kid. And home. Me an' my sister used to work the garden all the time," Jounouchi laughed. "Though, I'm worried it'll turn out bad. She had more of a green thumb than me."

"You got me at least."

"Yeah. Hopefully that offsets somethin'."

They shared a laugh, and Jounouchi took a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow before getting back to work. They would done by nightfall with the pace they had set, which was just fine by him. He wasn't exactly sure what he was meant to do otherwise. He'd yet to meet or speak with any of his Sisters to find out what they did to entertain themselves. In such a large Palace, there should have been theatre, games, hobbies. He had all the time in the world to find out.

"You like your sister a lot?" Honda asked, snapping him from his thoughts.

Jounouchi blinked. "Yeah, of course. Why ya ask?"

"You always seem to bring her up."

"Well, Shizuka's one of my best friends. Other than these guys I ran around with."

"Yeah?"

Jounouchi dug the hoe into the ground and scrapped through the dirt. His heels were touching tile. "Yup. They were a bunch of rowdy guys from school. Haga, Ryuzaki, um...well kinda Hirutani, but he was different. I wouldn't let Shizuka around him."

"That much of a guy?"

"You could put it that way. I whipped him around sometimes, but he wasn't exactly the kind you let cute, innocent girls around."

"Oh! I gotcha. I understand," Honda winked. "What's Shizuka like?"

"...at the risk of soundin' weird? Kinda like those strawberry cakes."

"Oh, really?" Honda said, his voice raised in excitement.

"Yeah. She's real sweet, but she's got a bit of kick t' her, too."

"She seems nice."

When Jounouchi reached the end of his row, he lifted up and found Honda leaned against his hoe and staring up with a dreamy look in his eye. With no more than that face as a portal to Honda's thoughts, Jounouchi scooped up a clump of dirt and threw it at Honda, striking him in the shoulder. He stumbled back, gripping onto his hoe for balance. "The hell was that for!"

"I've beat bigger men offa her," Jounouchi said.

"What? You think I'd...No! Never."

"No?" Jounouchi asked. He grabbed more dirt and threw it. Honda narrowly blocked his face.

"No!" Honda, with little pause, grabbed his own ball of dirt and threw it back at Jounouchi who was barely able to escape it, dirtying his sleeve. Jounouchi shook the dirt away. "I wouldn't think nothing like that."

Jounouchi abandoned his hoe and threw another clump of dirt. "Ya better not."

"No way."

"She's only fourteen."

Honda tossed another dirtball and ducked away. "Seriously, Jou. I wouldn't. I already got someone already."

They almost didn't seem to notice what they were, in jest, throwing dirt balls casually at one another amidst the serious conversation. Whatever qualms Honda may have had as a servant attacking his master were nonexistent. Jounouchi wanted it that way.

It wasn't long before they collapsed, covered in the grimy, freshly hoed dirt; all their hours of hard work destroyed in minutes.

"What was with that look then?"

Honda shrugged. "Nothing. Ya just compared her to the cakes. And those cakes," Honda lowered his chin and leered, "are love, Jou. Comparing your sister to them? How can I not get excited?"

"Ugh. An' you called me the weirdo."

"What can I say? I've been spoiled."

Jounouchi propped back on his arms. "So who's your _real_ lady then...?"

Suddenly, Honda became frantic, and he scrambled to get up and brush himself off. "I think it's about time I boil the pain medicine! And dinner! Man, so much to do. I'll be back!"

"'Ey, Honda!"

But he'd sprinted around the apartment and slid out of sight in seconds. Jounouchi shook his head and slumped, letting his muscles relax from the laborious day. It was nice to sit with the waning sunlight basking on his face. In the shade, it was chilled enough to wick the sweat from his brow.

"Wow..."

A squeaking voice snapped Jounouchi from his revelling, and he flopped his head back to see a short, black-haired child standing behind him with his head cocked to the side. Three guards flanked behind him, along with a mess of breathless maids.

"Why are you covered in mud?" The kid asked.

Jounouchi spun around, crossed his legs, and took in the kid properly. As far as he'd found out, which was very little, none of the concubines had bore children yet. This kid had to be ten or so, maybe older judging by the crack in his voice.

"Been gardenin'."

"Uh...that's not how you garden."

Jounouchi looked off as blush burned his cheeks. "Yeah, well, we got outta hand. It's all good, though."

"My brother would be so mad at you right now."

"Well, good thing ya ain't your brother, huh?" Jounouchi said. The kid stuck his tongue out and stepped closer, dropping to sit in front of Jounouchi. "What brings you here, kiddo?"

"Curiosity."

Jounouchi flinched. Had even this child heard about his failure with Kaiba? Would that be something someone even discussed with a kid? That didn't seem like the sort of thing that people openly talked to a child about. Maybe he'd eavesdropped. This kid looked the eavesdropping kind . "What about? Maybe I can help."

"I just wanted to see what 'the gift' looked like."

Oh. That was a valid reason.

Jounouchi splayed his arms out. "Here I am...I guess."

"Yep," the kid replied, popping the 'p'. He craned his neck one way and then the other, before skittering around him on all-fours. "You're kinda...boring. Other than being covered in dirt and...are you barefoot?"

Jounouchi stretched his toes out. "Yeah. Got a sore ankle, so it's better this way."

"You're so weird."

"Thought ya said I was borin'."

"Weird _and_ boring."

This kid was strange. But no more strange than the rest of the people in the Palace, except he didn't seem to care about etiquette or social structures. He was just a normal kid with a few too many curious questions, and that made him very endearing.

"So what does your gift do?"

"I dunno."

"So how do you know you have it?"

That was a good question. "I don't. People tell me I do."

"That's stupid. Do you always believe what people tell you?" The kid asked. Before Jounouchi could answer, he continued: "My brother says 'never believe anything until you can prove it yourself'."

"Your brother sounds pretty smart."

"Of course he is!"

Jounouchi snorted. Yeah, this kid was definitely someone's little brother; bold and completely confident in their sibling. He'd heard that same confidence in Shizuka's voice many times.

The kid plucked a hair from his head and inspected it, bringing it close to his eye before running it under his nose and pulling it between his fingers. He covered his head and scooted back from the kid, fighting back the unwanted tears.

"Hey now, ask first!"

The kid stuck out his tongue. "I can do whatever I want," he said and pivoted on his heel. The hair wobbled between his fingers and intensely scrutinising it, waiting for the it do something. Anything. Quietly, Jounouchi wanted the same thing. Then all of this madness would make sense.

Crawling closer, he bent around to look at the hair pinched in the kid's fingers, but he was startled by a touch on his shoulder.

"Medicine?" Honda said, and pressed a warm bowl into Jounouchi's hands. The blond threw the murky brown liquid back and winced at its bitterness, though he never broke his line of sight on the pacing child. "What's the Crown Prince doing?"

Jounouchi blinked.

Crown Prince? This pestilential, curious child? He almost laughed, but then realised that he had been followed by a small entourage of maids and guards, all of whom kept hawkish eyes on him even as he paced.

None of the concubines had children, but Kaiba had one living brother: Mokuba.

Jounouchi went numb, but kept his calm. There was no way he was meant to know who Mokuba was just from word of mouth. The servants hadn't asked him to bow (even though Honda had) or treat him with more respect. He could reason his way out of this; if it was brought up to him, he would take responsibility for his actions.

"This is dumb," Mokuba huffed. He let go of the hair, and the wind swept it up. "It's not doing anything."

Jounouchi swallowed his fear. "What's it supposed to do?"

"How should I know? You're the gift!" Mokuba pouted. He crossed his arms and shuffled into the mess of guards who let him melt into their fold. From behind their legs he yelled: "You'd better find out and tell me, Jou! You hear me!"

"As soon as I can figure it out, kiddo, I'll let ya know."

Mokuba's face popped from the folds of the guard's robes. "You swear?"

"With my life."

"Good."

Stunned, Jounouchi tried to decipher the meeting, but gave up after several long minutes and took Honda's proffered hand and headed back into his apartment for dinner and to change. The hard work would make him sleep deeply.

—

Hours turned into days. Days turned into weeks. The brisk spring afternoons were becoming warmer, and the sun was out longer.

Somewhere along the way, Jounouchi registered that he'd become the 'Waiting Attendant'. He thought of it absently while he watered the little garden one afternoon. The garden, with its small buds, had become a point of pride he intended on nourishing.

There was little else for him to do in his own apartments that they hadn't already done.

At first, there was everything to do. Clean and polish all the wood, re-lacquer the panels, and affix any of the loose boards or squeaking pieces of furniture. Between him and Honda, they'd figured out how to properly sew together the chair cushions and pillows that had bamboo stuffing seeping from them. It took plenty of pricked fingers, but they had figured it out.

The work was laborious, but rewarding. He slept so heavily that he didn't wake himself up with the nightmares of being gutted while the emperor looked on, his face split by a wolffish grin.

Soon though, Jounouchi was stretching his tasks. Everything that he and Honda were capable of doing to better the apartments was done. The rest had to be done by professionals, and the Housing Ministry dragged their feet. Occasionally they would receive a new end table, silverware, or lamps. It took two days for the comforter to be replaced, though Jounouchi didn't complain.

Honda did.

Every time he left to gather meals, he made requests. Often repeated requests for the same items. "They'll have to listen sometime," he reasoned. And if he didn't complain about the lack of care from the Housing Ministry, he complained about the kitchens themselves. The food they received was near spoiled, the meat was mostly fat or gristle, and the tea tasted mouldy. Jounouchi had taken to ordering sweets, because they would have to intentionally burn the food in order to spite him. Swirled osmanthus cookies, mixed berry tarts, and vanilla-cinnamon cubes were his favourite to order, even though he tried to get the strawberry cakes.

"Not as good as Lady Miho's," Honda said.

But he still tried.

The only people who seemed to not look down on them were the Seamstresses. All of his clothes came back shortly, mended when necessary, or fashioned into different, elegant outfits. He picked muted colours and patterns, things that hid mud and dirt well enough, and it became easier to blend in with the other concubines at the daily greetings. He sat back and listened to them, their lives, their small complaints and their dreams, all shared like a little serenade around the enchanted brazier. Jounouchi watched the different shapes it formed and wistfully recalled his own dreams.

They became less of nightmares and more like fantasies. He floated somewhere on a fluffy cloud, relaxed and at ease with his hands folded over his bare stomach and his feet plucking through the water. He never knew where he was, though he felt like he'd been there before.

There was a city very far in the distance, corralled by a square wall, and it spanned for miles. In the centre was a tall, spiralling tower that glowed deep red at the top.

 _It's there for you_ , the sky whispered.

"What is?" He asked.

The sky never answered.

When he awoke from the daydreams, Kisara had bid them farewell, and he walked out and away from the sitting room as fast as possible, choosing a different path home every time. It allowed for him to explore the vast and expansive Palace landscapes. He and Honda would lose themselves in long, arched pathways, crossing over the wandering streams that fed into the central lake.

The many winding paths took him around the Palace and dropped him in various places. Once he found the central ministries, little bland buildings with green-blue roof tiles. Once he found servant's quarters and the laundry, clustered in the far right corner. Once he'd slid down a tumultuous path that dropped him near an impossibly clear pond shielded by craggy rocks carved out by the dribbling stream.

Honda narrated along the way, pointing out the the different quarters and guiding them when Jounouchi became lost. He was content to get lost, because for all the hundreds, maybe thousands of people who called the Dragon Palace home, he saw less than a handful on his walks, and never brushed by the other concubines.

"They usually make plans," Honda said when Jounouchi explained the observation one night. "They meet with each other to embroider or drink coffee and play cards."

"Cards?"

"Yeah. There's this Old World card game. They called it Dorāgonzed nu...something. Something crazy like that. The Ladies call it Wands and Soldiers, though. Since that's what you're doing. Building up soldiers and magic for defence while battling the other player."

"Never heard of it. Must be a Domi thing."

Honda shrugged. "My brother plays if he can find other kids with cards. But they usually just trade them around for the pictures. You should ask the other Ladies; it's something they all play."

And Jounouchi tried. Every day, he worked up courage throughout greetings and mentioned it as they left, though he was openly ignored. Heads turned up, or feet moving fast down the path. Some of the ladies linked arms and spoke loudly to one another, acting as if they didn't hear him. He was persistent, hoping he would eventually wear one of them down. Once, Consort Anzu almost spoke to him before being swept up by Ishizu as they spoke about the Orchid Festival.

The loneliness was numbing; if Jounouchi didn't have Honda, he wasn't sure how he would have kept himself entertained.

He wouldn't have. He have succumbed to the strange feeling of being stranded in a sea of people, like the orphaned children who wandered his hometown tugging on the pleats of pants and skirts hoping to catch someone's attention, begging for food or coins.

Maybe he wasn’t fully alone. His dreams kept him company; the fantasies, the nightmares and the...one-on-one encounters where Kaiba lingering over him. If it was even Kaiba; in his dreams, it was just a pair of smouldering cobalt eyes floating over him while his body was overstimulated by fingers raking along the fine hairs down his arms and along his chest, the warm, wet palm rubbing up and down his erection until he was ready to burst.

It didn't make sense; the source of his pain, his loneliness, his embarrassment, being the one thing that comforted him at night and awoke feeling rocked in bliss, swathed in sweat and warm, sticky ejaculate between his legs. He didn't stir Honda on those nights, and instead went out to the well and washed himself off as he simmered down in the cool, still air.

This was Kaiba's fault; his mixed feelings, his rage and his carnivorous lust. These dreams wouldn't go away until he was able to face Kaiba again and finish their encounter. Once he had fulfilled his duty as a concubine, however confused he felt about a man touching him, caressing, showering his body in speculation and worship, he would be able to fight for everything else. His dignity and his family's honour. He wouldn't let Shizuka grow up bearing their father's shame.

Jounouchi needed to see Kaiba and talk to him again. Just once.

He refused to be a Waiting Attendant.

—

Anzu never made plans on Resting Day.

She knew her Sisters always rose late and spent hours pretending to learn the Old Tongue. Early on, she had participated out of interest of the material, but found that they quickly devolved into idle Palace gossip instead, reading a word or a line every half-hour.

There was nothing wrong with spending time with her Sisters; they were her family and she loved them, often spending many lazy afternoons drinking tea and playing games with them, but it was hard to always keep a face. She wasn't sure how Ishizu or Kisara managed it—as a Consort, she tried to be diligent with the juniors, but it was hard when to follow through always.

She threw herself into art instead, dancing out any frustrations in the wide studio in her apartments, a gift from Buruaizu after she had dazzled him when she first entered the Palace. Her Resting Day sessions went long, not stopping until she either completely memorised a nw routine or, as it often happened, she had the pleasure of being called to have lunch with Kaiba.

It hadn't been so much lately, and she was grateful. She wasn't entirely sure how she could have held her tongue with Kaiba in regards to the newest member of their family—a Brother of all things!—and the way the others treated him, ignored him, and then speculated behind his back all because of how Kaiba had reacted to him.

Kaiba probably knew that, too.

She held her tongue when her Sisters gossiped, and chided them for their mean taunts. "He's family. We should be welcoming him. I'm sure he's fun and interesting," she said. They didn't listen.

The few times she tried to talk to him, his was either in a hurry to get away, or she was thwarted by Ishizu who needed her advice in making plans for the Orchid Festival. He wanted to play games, talk, and be a part of their group. But they didn't want another man—only one was on their minds, anyways.

She decided to tackle the problem head on.

In lieu of dancing, or even taking it easy, Anzu gathered up a basket of different treats, a fresh pot of coffee, and her decks of Wands and Soldiers, and headed with her maid to the Eastern Lakeside. From the last time she passed it, it seemed vibrant, maybe a little lacking in decoration, but there was life.

Attendant Katsuya lounged on the porch, plucking sour notes on a long-necked lute, while his manservant laughed at him. "Terrible!"

"I can scare birds off."

"They'll never come back," Honda said.

Anzu cleared her throat when she got close enough. They greeted each other, and Jounouchi sat in front of her with furrowed brows and a half-cocked smile.

"What brings ya?"

Anzu displayed the basket instead. "I thought maybe we could...have coffee and play cards? That's what you were asking about not too long ago, right?"

"Of course. Come on in. Don't mind the place though, it's sorta...a work in progress."

"It's quaint."

"T-thanks."

The table was cleaned off and set up with the snacks and coffee. She spread the deck between them. One by one, Jounouchi picked up the cards and looked over them, awed. "Is it is an easy game?"

"It can be. Buruaizu says it's easy to learn, but hard to master."

"So he plays, too?"

"Yeah. All the time."

Jounouchi grinned warmly, thumbing through all the cards. "Let's get started then. I'll figure it out in no time."

She marvelled at the unEarthly glow that formed in like a halo around his head and in his eyes. It could have been happiness. He was a cheery, enthusiastic guy. But her gut told her it was something else, something more ethereal.

Anzu got an idea.

"Why don't I...take you to see Buruaizu? He may be available, and he's a much better teacher."

A starved looked flashed through Jounouchi. She'd take that as a 'yes'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is...the end of a lot of set up and really gearing into the plot. There’s stuff already happening though, so I hope you enjoy :3 
> 
> Tell me what you think!


	4. Year 1, Late Spring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a while. Hello! This is totally updating!

Consort Anzu was chatty. Just as much as she was when they were in morning greetings, but less shy. She seemed to tell Jounouchi anything and everything about the palace as they walked while intermittently complaining about how far away his apartments were. He and Honda hid their laughter in a mouthful of the pastries she’d brought with her. 

How far back he was hadn’t escaped his notice. Every place he wanted to go was far, and while he didn’t complain, he knew he watched most of the sunrise on his way to morning greetings. A few steps closer wouldn’t have been amiss.

“I’m bringing a sedan chair next time,” Anzu said.

Jounouchi raised a brow. “Chair? What, like...those things in the solstice parades?” He asked, recalling the bright festivals from back home, where a local beauty in silk robes danced around on a chair hoisted by four strongmen.

“Something like that. This place is so big, it hurts to get around. Especially after I’ve finished a dance routine and then get summoned to see one of Their Majesties,” Anzu said. She paused to pass the basket of treats over to Jounouchi, rifling for something. She pulled out a small cup. “If you’re lucky, you’ll get one if you’re promoted. I just can’t imagine why they put you so far away. Her Majesty isn’t that cruel.”

“I dunno if I’d call it cruel. It’s just a place.”

“Oh, it is. There are so many other apartments around the lake. Eastern is the furthest back, and no one else is there. She could have put you with me, or Sister Ishizu...or...”

The cup was handed to her maid and the coffee was poured. The cup was passed to Honda, then to Jounouchi. “Or what?” He asked, sipping the thick, bitter liquid that made him picker and gag. Terrible. He drained the cup and grab several more of the moist pastries to wash away the taste.

“Sometimes Sister Ishizu makes placements, too,” Anzu said, laughing between her words. She brushed crumbs off Jounouchi’s robe. “She helps Her Majesty run the harem...so it may have been her that put you there.”

“If she put me there, that’s a’right,” Jounouchi said after a little thought. “It’s good for the exercise.”

Anzu’s face pinched. “If you’re alright with it.”

“Yeah. It’s peaceful, ya know? No one bothers me, an’ I can do my own thing,” he said. The cup was passed back around and replaced in the basket. “Bein’ so far away ain’t really a problem.”

“It is!” Anzu leaned in front of him. “It’s a huge problem.”

“Eh....?”

“Think about it. You dislike walking that far, right?” Anzu asked. Jounouchi bobbed his head side-to-side. “Say you do, though, even a little. Imagine what Buruaizu would feel. He comes to us after a long day at court—have you every heard how long the ministers talk?—he’s stressed, he’s tired.”

Jounouchi bowed his head. “That is a kinda terrible walk.”

“Right. And there are other apartments along the way,” Anzu said, matter-of-fact.

It was curious, being tucked away in a dilapidated dwelling far in the back. But it was quiet, and he liked having a project to work on. The paint, the wood, the cobblestones. The garden. He’d worked so hard on the garden, and he thought to put in a magnolia tree; petal was wilting and shrivelled, after all. If he made the apartment worth visiting, the distance wouldn’t matter. “There’s got to have been others living here once,” he considered. And it wasn’t as if Ishizu had looked into his future before he had gotten there, had she? It felt impossible.

“Probably when Buruaizu’s father reigned. There inner palace was supposedly full of concubines. Ten times what we have now. But even then, Eastern Lakeside was...considered a little cursed.”

Jounouchi’s mouth went dry. “C-cursed?”

“Yeah. There’s an ghost there, supposedly.”

“G-ghost?”

“Mmhm, from early in Gozaburo’s reign. The lady who lived there pined and pined and died of loneliness. So she haunted the other concubine that were more favoured than her. It kept the emperor away. Supposedly,” Anzu said. Only half of it was heard. The very thought of ghosts inhabiting the apartment scared Jounouchi senseless, and he was shivering in the warm spring heat. Anzu turned to him. “Oh my gosh, are you alright? Your face is all white. I...I’m sorry if I startled you. It’s just a story. A myth...”

“Yeah. A myth.”

“I mean, ghosts could be real. The Magicks and seers say they are, though His Majesty says not to talk about them. I suppose he’s a skeptic.” Anzu said. She looped her arm around Jounouchi’s as he wobbled to keep up. Ghosts. In his apartments. Wonderful. “Are you sure you’re alright? I didn’t scare you did I?”

“N-no. Jus’ my feet hurt is all. Long walk.”

“Oh,” Anzu chuckled and patted his arm. If she thought he was lying, she didn’t say. She seemed like a kind soul. “Well, in that case, it could be your posture.”

“Posture?”

“Yeah. Your shoulders are really forward, and your back is curved with it. It puts all the pressure on your legs and feet.”

“Really?” Jounouchi asked, faking enthusiasm. Anything to get away from the talk of ghosts and curses. He still had to go back to his apartments and sleep somehow. Though he was going to need to start making wards and amulets to hang everywhere. If he planted a magnolia tree, he could cover it in amulets. No ghost was getting him.

“Yeah. Straighten your back. Pull back your shoulders and puff your chest out,” she said, showing him. Jounouchi imitated her as best he could. “If you want to look elegant, put one foot in front of the other. Take small steps and land on the ball, like this,” she said, stopping him, taking gentle steps forward, sliding along the the edges of the tall-soled shoe. He tried to copy her sweeping motion in his bare feet. He stumbled to each side. “Oh...this is going to take a lot of work.”

“Hey now.”

The consort laughed. “Come on, keep trying. We have plenty more to walk.”

And they did. They took the main walkway from the inner palace and circled around the governing halls, all of them decorated in yellow and pink blossoms. Ministers poured from the halls, chattering with one another, bowing their heads in reverence as they passed.

Jounouchi hardly noticed them, they’d become background noise. He was more interested in practicing the short, shuffled gait. He gained a little stride. He could see how, in the tall shoes, this was easier and more pleasing to the eye. Like a moving piece of art, dressed in silk and gold, adorned with jewels, floating down the current like boats in a soft breeze.

Before long, they stood at the gate of the annex, the doors opening wide for them to step through. They were told they had to wait a few moments, that the emperor was occupied, but they would be announced.

“Oh, Miho is here,” Anzu said, rolling her eyes. “I can only wonder why...”

She let go of Jounouchi’s arm and walked ahead while the blond drank in the scenery. He didn’t know what this annex was. A private hall, perhaps, away from the governing and the inner palace. Heavy champa incense burned in his nose and mouth. Monks sat in rows of five in the courtyard, humming prayers with their hands on their knees. Guards, along with Isono, stood at the front door with Miho, dressed in pale pink from top to bottom.

Honda nudged Jounouchi. “What are you doing?”

“Lookin’.”

“At what?”

“I dunno. Jus’...thinkin’ ‘bout all this,” he replied. Kaiba was just beyond the door. So close, and yet he felt his guts clenching. He wanted to see Kaiba more than anything, to make up for his mistakes. If they were mistakes and not nervous fear, but he didn’t know what to do. What to say. How to start.

Honda clapped his shoulder. “It’s alright. It’s just cards. He may be busy, since Lady Miho’s waiting.”

“Maybe we should turn around,” Jounouchi said.

“Nah. Go on, talk to Lady Miho,” Honda insisted, nudging Jounouchi until his heels skid on the ground. He stumbled over himself and sputtered towards the ladies as they spoke to each other clipped, but cordial. The coffee passed around was warmer than they were. “Talk, Jou. Talk.”

“Right, uh...” He greeted Miho with a bow. “Nice to get to meet ya. Properly, I guess.”

Miho glanced out of the corner of her eye, though she was more interested in bullying her maid to fan harder. She gave him a quick once over, as uninterested as she always was she he said hello in the morning. She lingered on the ground, more interested in it than him. He became acutely aware then that, despite his long pants, his toes were exposed. He tucked them back and away. An explanation was at the ready (a bit of lie, his ankle being hurt, anything to get away from those shoes).

Miho nonchalantly turned away, and Jounouchi eased. No harm done. Yet. “This heat is so awful. I can’t imagine what the festival is going to be like,” she moaned.

“Warm this year, I’m sure,” Anzu replied. “We’ll have to get ice sooner than later. Maybe they’ll serve the chilled hibiscus juice early if we ask.”

“Mm. I was thinking of asking His Majesty for some,” Miho said. She glanced at her maid again. The maid fanned harder. “Maybe some watermelon, too, if we can have it.”

“It’s not in season yet.”

“Consort Ishizu has it.”

Anzu huffed. “That’s different. Not even Her Majesty has watermelon yet. You know it’s  one of her favourites.”

“Yes, but Consort Ishizu is more fragile, you know,” Miho said, her hand resting on her stomach. “She needs it.”

Unimpressed, Anzu replied, “I’m sure.”

There was nothing entertaining about their conversation, and Jounouchi looked off to the monks as they shifted in unison to the south wall. Watermelon did sound good, but he hadn’t had any since he was very small. He could still taste the grainy sweetness on his tongue.

“Oi, Jou,” Honda whispered.

“Huh?”

“I’m gonna go and help Lady Miho with her fan, if it’s alright,” he said. Miho’s maid was fanning so hard that her wrist was ready to snap off. It couldn’t have been useful, not with the number of times that he’d fanned his father’s guests. There was an art to it, he knew. A sweet spot.

“Yeah, sure. We not doin’ anything but waitin’, anyways.”

Honda bit back a grin and approached Miho, bowing and making the offer to fan her with both hands out. The girls giggled, and Jounouchi couldn’t help but join them when seeing Honda’s blush in his deep bow. He seemed more than happy to stand by her and fan her gently.

“Attendant...Katsuya was it?” She asked.

“Yeah. You can call me Jou if you want, though.”

Miho already looked back to Honda. “You have a good man, Jou,” Miho said. Again, Honda’s face flushed, and he looked to the sky to fight a grin. Those cakes must have really won him over, Jounouchi thought. “I’m sure he’s helpful in preparing for the Orchid Festival, too, isn’t he?”

“Oh! I just perfected the dance routine,” Anzu interjected before Jounouchi could answer. “And the performers arrived from Jinzo in time, so I planned a lovely little opera, too. Everyone should be happy.”

“Ishizu’s kitchen has been going nonstop,” Miho said. She motioned for Honda to adjust, and he did so with a wide grin. “Those poor cooks. But they make the best braised beef and noodles. How are the lanterns coming along?” Miho asked Jounouchi.

“Oh uh...”

Lanterns.

What lanterns? He panicked, searching for the right thing to say other than ‘I don’t know’, because even Honda looked scared. He mouthed ‘lanterns?’ to Jounouchi, who refrained from shrugging. His silence seemed to be accusatory enough.

Jounouchi spoke through a strained smiled. “They’re uh...comin’ along. Wanted to make ‘em real special. Paint them all by hand. Honda’s great at that, aren’t ya Honda?”

“Uh...yeah! Yeah, I’m the best. The paper lanterns are gonna blow everyone away,” he said, nodding vehemently.

“It’s why they ain’t done yet, but they will be soon,” assured Jounouchi. He had to assure himself, because he had no idea what boiling cauldron he had just jumped into, or why he and Honda hadn’t been told about making lanterns. Whatever kind of lanterns needed to be made for the Orchid Festival, or how many he was supposed to have. He still wasn’t even sure what the Orchid Festival was other than it took place on the summer solstice.

Miho clapped her hands together. “That sounds wonderful!”

“Y-yeah...”

“It really does. I can’t wait,” Anzu agreed.

Jounouchi could. He and Honda combined couldn’t get a new writing desk, let alone the supplies to make paper lanterns. Still, he grinned, and resolved to himself that this would be done. No matter how little time or supplies he had, he would find a way to make this work. He had to. In the few months that he’d been in the Palace, he’d managed to be nothing but a rumour, a scourge, a murmur for fallen eyes and pitiable laughter. There wasn’t anything he could do to change the past, but he could make use of the future, and the tasks given to him. So he would make as many lanterns as he had to, until his fingers bled. While ghosts haunted him.

Wonderful.

He had to figure out exactly what he was doing first, and what the whole festival was about. He couldn’t ask just anybody and let them know that his was ignorant of his own country and it’s customs. He was foreign enough in the palace. A talk with the empress was in order, he felt. She had offered her ears and honesty, so she said.

Isono cleared his throat and moved away from the door. “Thank you for your patience. His Imperial Majesty will see you now Con—,” he said, and before he even finished speaking, Miho sprung up the stairs only to be held back with Isono’s stern: “Just the Consort and Attendant Katsuya.”

Miho’s mouth hung open. “But I—I came for Consort Ishizu.”

“I told him.”

“Well, tell him again.”

Isono frowned. “I’m afraid not.”

“But, please, she asked me to—,”

Involuntarily, Jounouchi trembled, unsure of why Miho was being denied. She was there first and she outranked him, logic said that he should have been left waiting. But he didn’t get this place.

He wiped his hands on his pant legs, and continued watching until, to his surprise, Anzu’s slender arm hooked around his. She beckoned for her maid and Honda to follow, and pulled him up the stairs up the stairs, whispering, “Don’t mind her.”

“What’s goin’ on?” He whispered back. “Is she in trouble or somethin’?”

“Nope. Buruaizu just doesn’t want to see her right now. That’s all.”

“Simple as that...guess it makes sense,” Jounouchi muttered. He strained to watch her as the doors closed. The way she pouted and whined to Isono was no better than a toddler. When he denied her again, she huffed, stamped her foot, and glared at closing door before twirling around and stomping off. Her maid struggled to catch up with her. Laughter bubbled in his chest. “I didn’t know people in the palace acted like that.”

“There are dramatics everywhere. It’s no different here than in the market.”

“You aren’t kiddin’. Pretty sure I’ve seen little kids act better.”

“Well, that’s what happens when a little favour goes to your head. She’s a nice girl, but she got a promotion not too long ago and thinks she can do whatever she wants,” Anzu said.

“I might wanna watch my back, then.”

“Why you?”

“I dunno. Just goin’ with a gut feeling.”

Anzu chuckled and patted his arm. “You’re silly, Jou. Its really nothing. Just stick with me, and you’ll be alright.”

They were shown into a drawing room as wide as Jounouchi’s courtyard, but as small and intimate as his lavatory. There was only enough space to walk heel to toe, every spare piece of floor littered with books and maps, instruments and relics of times gone by. Some disassembled, some displayed proudly. On the back wall, a partition screen moved bled a kaleidoscope of colour that waxed and waned, bursting with snow flurries and blossom petals, before a dragon, drawn in ink, swept across the screen and settled on a mountaintop. It cooled the room as if the snow fluttered off the screen, thought it disappeared before it hit the ground. Beneath it sat a set of scales, golden and shimmering, it’s centred eye catching every bit of Jounouchi’s attention. He blinked, trying to draw away, but was captivated. Even as his head pulsed and eyes hurt, he was taken breathless and curious. He swore there was a voice far back in his mind, speaking in tongues he didn’t recognise.

“H-huh...?”

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Anzu asked. He snapped out of the trance to turn to her. “The screen came from the Far North. It’s said it has the Northerns Winds infused.”

“I...I ain’t never seen magick like this before.”

“No?”

Jounouchi shook his head. Something fluttered by his head. Paper doves, he thought, with crinkling wings. The closer he inspected it, the more he saw that they were fastened by copper, their bellies glowing.

“We had an old phoenix in town, waitin’ to combust. An’ there was a local seer, ya know, for harvests, droughts. Things like that. But I never knew if she really was a seer or not...” said Jounouchi. He heard of magick, had seen parlour tricks and artefacts they said were magick, but he’d never was sure. “I heard there was stuff like this, but I didn’t think it was real...”

“It is.” Kaiba glided from the far side of the room. “Technically real, depending on how one chooses to study it.”

There was more than a second where etiquette lapsed once Jounouchi caught sight of the dressed down emperor. His breast and arms exposed exposed in a thin, almost translucent, tunic. His marble white skin plump and pink, beaded with sweat so that thin fabric of his shirt stuck to him and left no room for imagination. Isono approached with a long, silver robe and threw it over Kaiba’s shoulders, fastening it at the neck.

“He’s captivated by the magick,” Anzu said in Jounouchi’s place. She allowed him breathe, collect himself where he body throbbed in confusion and his head swirled with a fluttering, floating feeling akin to excitement. The busy room, the thick incense, swirled behind his eyes. “He hasn’t seen so much of it before.”

“I heard,” Kaiba said, his brow crooked. He stood in front of Jounouchi, gripping his chin. “But I’d like to hear it from the dog’s mouth just how...captivated he is. Though, given the drool, he’s more puppy than dog. Wouldn’t you say, TeaTea?”

Anzu blushed. “Puppy is kinder than dog, but neither are nice.”

“I’ll let the puppy decide then,” Kaiba replied.

“I ain’t...”Jounouchi began, but paused as Kaiba gripped his chin tight. His floating head came crashing back down, and he swallowed the worst of the yell that roared in his belly. His father would beat him senseless in front of houseguests for his backtalk. This was the emperor—the emperor would do worse, and with little remorse, or so his dreams told him. He had to manage to be sensible. “I’m a Servin’ Attendant, Your Majesty,” he whispered.

“I didn’t hear you, pup.”

“I’m a Servin’ Attendent,” Jounouchi repeated, his confidence growing. “That’s what ya made me— _technically_ —isn’t it?”

Isono balked. “Attendant, mind your tongue.”

Kaiba held his hand out to Isono, flicking his wrist to send the right-hand away. “How brazen of you, Attendant.” His eyes never left Jounouchi who, with shivering certainty, looked back into the deep and dark, thunderous eyes that shared a face with the smirking maw of a lion licking its chops. “He’s very amusing, TeaTea. Why did you bring him on Resting Day. That’s unlike you.”

“He was interested in playing Wands and Soldiers,” Anzu said.

“So you brought him to me? I suppose I am the best choice.” Kaiba let go of Jounouchi’s jaw and beckoned him, with one long, curling finger, to sit beside him at a low table in front of the moving screen. Jounouchi again practiced the graceful walk, and waited for Kaiba to sit before resting on his heels beside the emperor. “I doubt you know anything, coming from Ne-Yah. So I’ll have to teach you from scratch...what a bother.”

“I’m a fast learner,” Jounouchi assured.

“Hmph, so you say...”Kaiba reached back, their shoulders brushing. Jounouchi moved back enough to see the scales out of the corner of his eye. Not that he had needed to see it. Its presence radiated on his neck. “I’m only showing you this once, Attendant. We’ll see how fast you learn.”

Jounouchi nodded. “I’ll be a master in no time.”

“I’ll put your mouth to work after, then.”

—

Until Miho reached the bridge leading towards the Western Lakeside, she threw glances over her shoulder. Buruaizu’s personal study, the Hall of Relaxation, was nowhere in sight, but that hardly mattered. Someone would come running after her. Isono would realise that he made a mistake, or Buruaizu would change his mind.

Only when she stood on the bridge did it sink in that no, no one was coming. The path she had taken was long and soothing. Rosemary, mint, and thyme grew in little patches, picked and pruned for the kitchens. She liked the fresh and warm smell. It calmed the quivering in her arms and the weakness in her legs.

“My lady,” her maid called, breathless, her hand at her chest. She wouldn’t complain. “I thought I’d find you here. You rushed so far ahead, I didn’t think I’d catch up.”

“Well, you did.”

Her maid took her arm. “Here, you must be tired, running like that.”

“I’m okay,” Miho said. Physically, she was alright. Her feet and ankles ached, but that would go away once she sat. The ache in her heart would take a little more time. “When we get back, I want mint tea...and gather the ingredients for the strawberry cakes.”

“But we just baked a batch for...”

“I know!” Miho’s glared at her maid. Specifically the basket hanging off her arm. “Throw them out. They’re spoiled now.”

“But, mistress they’re still fresh.”

“And?”

“And...maybe there’s someone else they’re for.”

“Like who?” Miho tore the basket from her maid’s arm and stormed up to the railing of the bridge, the basket held over her head and ready to throw. But she couldn’t. She had put so much work into the cakes, made the filling a little less sweet, put a little more cream on them.

That’s how Buruaizu liked them. “Small and a little sweet,” he had said. She had asked if he meant liked her. He replied, “Mm, something like that.”

No one else would like them as much as Buruaizu. And she gave her maid a few seconds to give her some answer before she offered them to the river and the ducks wading down the current.

“What’s the commotion for?” Ishizu asked.

Miho flinched and lowered the basket. In her outburst, she hadn’t heard Ishizu approaching. She bowed quickly, the basket clutched close to her stomach. Her legs trembled again as she heard the two dowry maids chattering behind Ishizu in a foreign tongue. They didn’t look at her directly, their status didn’t let them, but she could feel their catty, judgemental looks.

“Nothing, Sister,” Miho admitted.

Ishizu faced the stream. The consort was always poised and calm. The very picture of elegance.  She was the kind of woman that Miho thought she could be. It was no wonder that she was Buruaizu’s favourite. Just looking at her made Miho straighten her back, but relax her shoulders.

“Then what has you troubled?“

“I don’t have anyone to give fresh cakes to. I was giving them to his Majesty. You told me that he was usually available on Resting Day, but he wasn’t.”

“It’s not a guarantee, merely an idea.”

“Well, it didn’t work. And now they’re spoilt,” she said.

Ishizu opened the basket and pulled back the handkerchief. “I don’t think so. They’re lukewarm and rather soft,” she said, her finger wicking through the cream. “Someone will appreciate them.”

Miho blew hot air out of her nostrils and clamped her hands at her waist. The basket slid down her arm and dragged down her knuckles. “Even if they do, I don’t want them to have them. It’s not for them, it’s for Buruaizu. These are trash now,” she began to walk away.

“If you’re going to throw them away, give them to me.”

“Why?”

Ishizu merely smiled. “Because I love your cooking, of course.”

Blush flashed on Miho’s cheeks. “O-oh...I don’t know why...”

“Don’t be so modest,” Ishizu insisted. “There are things we’re all good at. There are times to be reserved and times to show yourself off. With these...I can understand why you’d be upset. It never feels good to be rejected at the door, especially when you’ve out your heart into something. Believe me, I’ve experienced it many times.”

“You have?”

“All the time.”

“Even with His Majesty?”

“Especially with him. There are so many things demanding his attention all the time. You may have simply been rejected because you didn’t try hard enough,” she mentioned.

“I did! I told Isono why I was there,” she said, omitting the fact that she’d tried to use Ishizu’s favour to get in. “He told me to wait like he was going to let me in, but...Consort Anzu and Attendant Katsuya were there just because, and they just walked in!” 

There was a sympathetic wrinkle in Ishizu’s brow. “Ah, so Consort Anzu did that, did she?...” Ishizu tutted and sighed, dreamy. “There’s nothing you can do about that. She’s being dishonest.”

“She is?”

“I believe so. She seems to have befriended him all of a sudden. Why do that other than to try and curry back lost favour?”

“But he failed his first night. Buruaizu hasn’t called on him, I don’t think. He doesn’t even talk at greetings or...well, ever really,” Miho said. She tried to recall where he was at morning greetings, but her mind was drawing a blank.

“He is the gift, still.”

“So? He’s weird,” Miho scoffed. “He was all nervous. He talks funny. And I’m pretty sure he wasn’t wearing shoes.”

“That is strange. Are you certain?”

“I think so. They looked like toes to me, unless there’s someone hiding beneath his robes. That would be even weirder,” Miho said. Before she even finished the statement she was laughing. “The only thing kind of normal about him is his manservant. He knew that I was hot and tried to help me, which was nice of him,”

Ishizu looked out to the stream, quietly drinking in Miho’s words as she fiddled with her necklace. “Then you can give the manservant those cakes for now, for being nice to you.”

“...maybe. I’d rather give them to you, though. You’re the only one that listens to anyone and understands anything that’s going on around here. More than the Empress.”

Ishizu’s hand dropped from her necklace and her lips pursed. “Give them to the manservant. Make the next batch for Buruaizu, and if you have the time, I will happily take some as well. But remember, don’t be modest in your talent. You’ve caught his attention, clearly. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Thank you, Sister. I’m...going to go give them to him,” she said, and turned away, heading back towards the Hall go Relaxation. The brunet servant had to emerge sometime, after all.

—

The lesson went long. Long enough that lunch was served, and they picked off towered plates from the sides of the table while Kaiba laid out each and every card on the table. They spanned corner to corner, grouped into columns and rows of type and power. He explained each one with certainty and precision.

No one knew this game better than him.

But it was strange, or convenient, that Anzu had brought Jounouchi. Her eyes were innocent, curiously watching the lesson and making comments on cards. As if she was enjoying his company, also. 

There weren’t enough nights to enjoy the eclectic company of the harem. Not evenly. Not when the country gave him little free time and no peace. Somehow, he couldn’t help but think that Anzu had brought him Jounouchi to ease his frustration a little bit. Almost in the way that Kisara had made the swift decision to place him in the harem. Neither of the ladies were quiet or unwise. It wouldn’t suit him, or his interests, if they were only as interesting as scum in a stagnant pond. 

Still, even with the golden-blond hair grazing at his nose, Kaiba couldn’t help but wonder if his first judgement was wrong. 

Jounouchi was, undoubtably, going to drive him insane. Not by sheer or brute force, but by his very stubborn, fiery yet calm nature. He existed like a confusing paradox that Kaiba hadn’t calculated yet. People were easy to read. Their expressions, their motions, their words. It was all a matter of finding the exact tick, the very turnkey that they were wound by. Gozaburo had painstakingly taught him how to read people and called it ‘a life skill no monarch can live without’. But Jounouchi was an infuriatingly curious paradox. He was the very essence of The Gift, The Prophecy and yet also it’s antithesis. 

“So we got....soldiers, an’ then there’s generals,” Jounouchi said, sliding one card to the other. “Need a general to lay out a soldier.”

“Not necessarily.” 

“Most of the time, though,” Jounouchi rebutted. “Only in weird occasions, with the sorcerers here. They cast spells, strengthen stuff...an’ then there’s these weapons here. I can add them to the soldiers for power....hmmm....” 

“Not even close.” 

“Close enough.”

“You’ll play it incorrectly,” Kaiba chided. He slid the cards back in place.

Jounouchi rested his chin up with both hands while he looked over every card, wide-eyed and bewildered, until he declared. “I got this.” 

“Do you now?” 

“Yep. I got this. Generals, soldiers, weapons. Sorcerers, spells, and monsters. And then there’s the wall,” he said, sweeping his arm across the table, making a clear line and then setting biscuits up as a partition. Anzu giggled at him, refilling a tea cup and supplying more biscuits for the wall. “Gotta break down your wall an’ take out your general.” 

“Hmph. In the simplest terms.”

“I got this. Let’s play.” 

Kaiba smirked as Jounouchi picked up cards. He rested his hand over the blond’s beaten knuckles and stroked them. Strong and experienced at something. A far cry from the tender, unworked hands of the other concubines. “With what deck, puppy?” 

“Attendant,” Jounouchi corrected.

“With what deck?” Kaiba asked again. Jounouchi displayed the cards hanging from his fingers. “That’s my deck. It’s what you’re playing against.” 

“It’s like...forty cards a deck, yeah? You got way more than that,” Jounouchi said. He reached out, taking a few and inspecting them, before hovering over a gnarled, white dragon. Kaiba snatched his hand up tight, squeezing the fingers to a point and staring at nails he swore glowed as they hovered over the card. Anzu gasped. 

“You’re cute, puppy. Don’t test it.” 

“I’m jus’ sayin’...Your Majesty...that there’s a lot here. I don’t have a deck, an’ you went about teachin’ me. It’d be a big waste of both our time if I didn’t actually get to play.” 

Kaiba’s grip loosened. He pulled Jounouchi’s arm back, inspecting the fingers, tracing the shapes of his palm lines. “TeaTea,” Kaiba said, pushing Jounouchi’s sleeve up to his elbow. “Lend him your deck. Let’s see what he can do with it.” 

In the moments that it took for Anzu to turn to her maid for the deck, Kaiba shifted close to Jounouchi and pulled the blond’s arm to his mouth, running his lips down Jounouchi’s forearm. He tasted honeysuckle and smoke. Sugar and dirt. Not becoming of a concubine or magistrate’s son, but he enjoyed it. It was musky, distinct, and pure. The sort of taste he thought that gift might have. 

Neither noticed Anzu offering her deck until she hummed innocently. Jounouchi had turned away from Kaiba’s worship, sucking on his lips and focusing his attention on the golden scale behind them. Kaiba lowered Jounouchi’s arm to his lap, reluctantly letting go of the blond’s wrist. With just his fingertips, he pushed Jounouchi’s attention back to him.

“I like to play for stakes, puppy,” Kaiba explained. “My game, my rules.” 

“Sounds like a good time. What kind of stakes we talkin’ about?” Jounouchi took Anzu’s deck, silently thanking her, and moved to the other side of the table as instructed.

“The challenger decides. I can be that kind,” Kaiba said. He swept up his cards and shuffled. 

“I uh...I don’t need much of nothin’.” Jounouchi attempted to shuffle the cards, instead splattering them between his hands and all over the table. He inhaled fast, hiding his hiccuped surprise, and began washing the cards around the table before collecting them.

Honda mimed towards the table and the chairs in the room. Interesting. “You’re being given the chance for anything, puppy. _Anything_. Something for your quarters? Gold or silver. A special food or drink from Ne-Yah? A day in the market, perhaps.” 

“That sounds fun,” Jounouchi admitted. 

“It is. I’ve gone out a few times,” Anzu said. “There’s so much  to do in Domi. There must be hundreds of stalls. And you get to go all by yourself. Plus a guard to be safe,but by yourself. It’s very freeing, though, regardless. You should also get a stipend, if Buruaizu is feeling so willing.” 

“Don’t give him ideas.” 

Anzu clicked her tongue. “He needs to know. There’s plenty you can ask for, Jou. Go on, get creative.” 

“A’right, a’right. So this is...like askin’ the djinn for wishes. If I win...,” Jounouchi’s voice dropped as he murmured to himself, knocking his head back and forth. Kaiba mentally prepared for any request. A large sum of money for the man from a poor province. Vindication for his father. A better apartment. “I want a magnolia tree.”

Kaiba’s lips pursed. “A tree? No money or titles?” 

“Nah, I don’t want titles. Just a magnolia tree.”

Jounouchi’s face was indecipherable, but his humility was honest. 

The decks were cut and cards were drawn. Jounouchi was intense, but excited. He played each card with confidence, spreading his defences out and hacking at Kaiba’s soldiers and sorcerers. But the longer he played, the more despondent he became. Quiet, but adept. There was never a need to correct him, even if his strategy was paper thin. And the entire time, Kaiba focused on his eyes and hands. Wondering if he was imagining the glowing fingertips and shimmer eyes.

“You lose, puppy,” Kaiba declared. It only took drawing his dragon. 

“I was doin’ so good, too,” Jounouchi muttered. “Can we go again, same stakes?” 

Kaiba complied. After all, it was fun to watch his concubine stick out his tongue and widened his eyes in frustrated concentration. He plucked at his cards and, with and assuring look from Anzu, played them. 

The matches went long, until the sun hovered mid-way in the sky. Lunch had been swept away and chilled tea was brought out. Honda had settled next to Jounouchi and fanned him where, unlike the rest of them, had broken out in what Kaiba concluded was a nervous sweat. 

Jounouchi wasn’t good. He was stubborn, playing the same tricks again and again, though occasionally he threw a curveball. But really, he was at the mercy of Anzu’s weakly built deck and had said at least once, “I need a bit more luck here,” to Kaiba’s unending amusement. The emperor didn’t hide his mocking laughter. Jounouchi didn’t hide his disdain. He pinched his tongue when muttering backwater obscenities that ministers would lose their lunch if they heard. 

“It’s getting late,” Kaiba said after Jounouchi lost again. “I have dinner plans with the Empress.” 

“One more. I got it this time, I know how to beat that damn dragon. I swear,” Jounouchi said. And his eyes flashed, looking through Kaiba, through eons. 

“This is it, pup.” 

They shuffled and drew. Maybe he was indulging Jounouchi too much, in a way that couldn’t be explained. He felt just as drawn into the match. However certain it was that he’d win, Jounouchi fervour was unparalleled. As wide as the room, all consuming. The gift’s power seeping from him, presumably, until his swirled eyes were exhausted and his hands shook. All this for a tree. 

When his last soldier was defeated, Jounouchi’s head flopped back and sighed. “That damned thing every time.”

Gentle wind from the fan pushed his golden, glittering bangs around his face. He looked soft. Guiltlessly enjoyable. So enjoyable that, for after dinner, he was already making plans to visit Jounouchi’s apartments. 

“It can’t be real. It’s so old,” Jounouchi said. 

“It’s an old game.” 

“Yeah but, these are new. Someone’s makin’ these sets and sellin’ them in markets so people can play,” Jounouchi mused aloud. He shivered though his cheeks burned red. He pointed to the dragon. “This one ain’t one of those. It’s from somewhere else, it’s...it’s Old Tongue. It’s different,” he said, and picking it up from the corners “Too different. It ain’t—“ 

A flash of bright, burning light consumed the room. Kaiba blocked his face with his arms. Anzu and Honda shrieked. In an attempt to shield Kaiba, Isono held him back but was nudged away. Kaiba forced his eyes open until they watered in the blinding light. 

Jounouchi was on his knees with his arms spread wide. The card dangled from his fingertips. He was still for five or ten seconds, but it felt like an eternity. The only thing that Kaiba heard was the rattling of the scales behind him.

In an instant, all the light was gone from the room. Jounouchi fell backwards with in slack and was promptly cradled by Honda. “Jou! C’mon Jou, wake up. What happened? You alright, you have to tell me! Jou? Jou?” 

Anzu crawled over and touched his forehead. “W-what’s wrong...? Are you okay?” She turned to Isono. “Go get a doctor. He needs a doctor, he’s burning up.” 

“Of course, Consort. Your Majesty, I must—“

“Go!” Kaiba shouted. 

Isono sprinted out of the room. The card fell from Jounouchi’s fingers and fluttered to the floor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah....so...we’re getting into some magic and some scheming so there’s everything going on. And more characters! Woo!


	5. Year 1, Orchid Festival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like jumping out of break into writing waaaay too many words, resolution to the cliffhanger here.

_A cloud cradled Jounouchi. He didn’t know how long he’d been there; it could have been hours, it could have been days. The passage of time made little sense in his dreamworld. And when rocked by the gentle ebb and flow of the water, he couldn’t be sure if he was dreaming in his dream world, too._

_Every so often, he gazed towards the city in the distance. A purple haze had taken over everything, seeping into the ground and the trees. Clinging to the walls and the spiralling tower. But even in the deep, almost miasmic purple haze, he could make out the deep red at the top of the tower. It called him to him, just like the sky._

Go to it, _the sky whispered. It’s voice was like wind whistling through dead leaves._

_“Why?”_

_The sky didn’t reply. Jounouchi spent too long looking at it and debating whether or not to climb off his cloud. That meant dropping into the water, and he didn’t know how deep it went. Leaning over, he dipped his hand down to the wrist and then eased over further until he was shoulder deep. He touched nothing._

Leave safety, search the unknown. It’s there for you _, the sky said._

_Jounouchi swallowed hard. Leaving safety didn’t seem like a good idea, but that was just him. Then again, this place was so different from the palace. Open and wide, it had so much potential for exploration. It could be an escape from his caged reality, where his only way out of the palace gates was if he managed to win a card game against Kaiba. He didn’t even recall if he’d won or not. The results were fuzzy._

_Slowly, carefully, Jounouchi eased from the cloud and dipped his feet into the water. He dropped in. Water flooded into his nose and his mouth. He squeezed his eyes closed, flailing about to find a rock or a branch to grasp. He couldn’t remember if he knew how to swim; the more the water overtook him, the more his memories faded into the background. It was just him and the water. He fought his way to the surface, greedily sucking in air when his head popped out of the water._

Good _, the sky cooed._ Keep going.

_“Holy...crap...I don’t...the cloud...”_

_Jounouchi turned, but the cloud was gone. He treaded water, but it became harder and harder. As if the water thickened around him._

_“Where the hell am I s’pose to go?” he asked. The sky didn’t reply. “Oi, hey, where do ya want me to go? I...I dunno why I’m talkin’ to the sky. It ain’t like it ain’t creepy or nothin’.”_

_Jounouchi waded through the congealing water, and he focused on the tower: the lone guide in a vast land of haze and darkening purple. The sun he had basked in for hours, days, was finally setting the further he moved along. His lungs burned and his limbs turned numb and heavy from the exertion. The shoreline was close. If he made it there, he could continue his journey into this wide unknown, this comforting dreamscape._

_Maybe it would tell him how he was the gift._

_Maybe the tower could tell him how he was the gift._

_Jounouchi swam harder, kicking until his toes licked an inch of ground beneath them. He soon found a place to stand and sloughed through the rest of the molasses thick water until he stood ankle deep._

_The tower held absolutely no promise of anything. No treasure, no answer, no reason. But in his gut, it felt right. So Jounouchi kept walking towards an infinite horizon line._

—

“I brought some rose water,” said Anzu. She displayed the bowl of water with rose petals floating in it. Honda nodded and took it from her, setting it beside Jounouchi’s bed. “We should wash him in it.”

“Wash?”

Anzu nodded. “It’s good for fevers, or so my mother used to tell me.”

She took a seat next to Jounouchi, the same place she’d been on and off for the last three days. Other concubine had come to visit after hearing about what had happened. All of them were curious to see how Jounouchi had showed off his powers, and plenty of rumours had started circulating. That he’d caught fire, or he’d levitated before falling and knocking himself out, or he’d managed to look Buruaizu in the eye and seduce him.

Anzu laughed them all off. It was all ridiculous.

They didn’t believe her when she said all he did was pass out in a blaze of light, but stopping her Sisters’ wagging tongues was impossible.

“I was thinking maybe we could just douse the _kima_ in it,” Honda said. He reached for the red headband wrapped snuggly around Jounouchi’s forehead, peeling it off. It was soaked through with sweat.

Anzu clicked her tongue. “That’s an old wive’s tale you know. What the _kima_ does.”

“Maybe,” Honda agreed. He didn’t think a headband would save Jounouchi. If the stories were true, it would increase blood flow and keep demons and spirits out of his body when he was ill. “But it isn’t like the doc’s have figured out anything yet. He’s still got a fever. At least this way it’s doin’...something.”

Honda dipped the headband in the rose water, dousing it completely before ringing it out. He slipped it back on. After, he stirred together the medicine the physicians had provided—hot water and what looked like some gelatinous herb—before spoon feeding it to Jounouchi, slow and steady.

“You know, you don’t hafta stay, Consort,” Honda said.

“I know.”

“If you’re worried about telling his Majesty...”

“No, no. It’s not that. I’m sure you’ll let him know. I’m not looking to curry favour with Buruaizu that way,” Anzu insisted.

Honda’s hand stalled. He gave Anzu a single look before returning to feeding Jounouchi.

“I know that’s sort of how things work, sometimes. Especially since he and Buruaizu were getting comfortable playing together. I know you saw it,” Anzu said. It was hard to miss. There had been a vague, faraway smile on Kaiba’s face each time Jounouchi asked for another game. Not many would keep throwing themselves into the lion’s den the way the attendant had. “I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

“He’ll be alright. He’s been persistent till now.”

“He’s good at taking care of himself, isn’t he?” Anzu asked.

Honda shrugged. “You could say that. Me and him are just doin’ our best.”

Without so many words, Anzu could gather what Honda was trying to say. It was the politest way he, as Jounouchi’s servant, could tell her that he disapproved of her being there. She didn’t need to help. She didn’t need to sit and wait. She didn’t need to care if he was okay, because no one had until now. That was the game. Make friends with the right consort or concubine when the time was right and discard them when things weren’t in your favour anymore.

“You’re real good friends, aren’t you?”

“Something like that,” Honda replied. The medicine was finished off and set aside.

“I want to hopefully be friends like that with him. He seems like a real good guy.”

Before Honda could reply, the shout of: “His Majesty arrives!” Echoed through the apartment. Anzu and Honda scuttled to attention. Kaiba and Kisara entered first, with Ishizu standing at the threshold.

Kaiba gazed around the room, taking in the simple amenities and the dull colours around it. It was adequate at best. The kind of apartments any high ranking servant might have. The furniture needed varnished. The window covers were moth eaten, though they’d been rolled up to hide their wear. The dish set was plain.

“How is he?” Kaiba asked.

“Replying to your Majesty: he’s still feverish,” Honda said, hesitantly looking at Anzu. “But his breathing’s evened out some.”

Kaiba nodded. He motioned for Honda to move, but never got closer to Jounouchi. Not that he was Jounouchi at all. For now, he was a lifeless body in a bed. From where he stood, Jounouchi didn’t breathe. His skin was pale as ice, his hair was limp and dull.

“I think he’s used up his gift,” Kisara said.

“Doubtful.”

“I’m worried he may have. I felt his energy when I was in the gardens.”

Kisara stood beside Jounouchi, cupping his hand between hers. She stroked his knuckles, murmuring something in Old Tongue to him. There was no reason to entertain her skepticism. “The prophecy says that the gift won’t be able to control their power. Imagine that,” Kaiba scoffed. “An unknown amount of power being overwhelming.”

“Maybe. But much of the prophecy is still unreadable. Perhaps it’s not meant to be.”

“It will be,” Kaiba assured. There was no doubt he would have it deciphered in his lifetime. Opening up the empire to peace had been the first step in finding all the answers. The ancient texts had been passed down through generations of emperors, but they’d never been fully utilised. “‘The Gift will walk the land encased in wheat, twisted in pearl, amber and glow, and It will humble the world in all its lustre. It will search for the seven keys, heedless in Its quest. The walls of kingdoms will mean nothing to the Gift’s command, to Its knowledge, and will provide pleasure to whomever wishes to seek what they most desire.”

Kaiba had long since memorised the transcribed parts, written in a language from long before the Old Tongue. Many emperors had tried and failed to find answers. They sough it through war, and there were legends of kings, and kingdoms, completely lost in search of the fable. All of them sought immortality or riches. Like a wanderer looking for a djinn. In a world of magicks, the gift may as well have been the divine.

Kaiba drifted to Jounouchi and ran his knuckles down Jounouchi’s brow and cheek, raking them against the grain of his stubble. Not even a flinch.

Jounouchi may or may not have been it. An all-knowing, all-powerful soul in the body of an idiot. The Old Gods, whoever they were and however long they’d been gone, must have had a sense of humour.

Kaiba drew his hand away and turned to Kisara. “So you did feel something?”

“Yes. A wave of energy just...resonated all over my body. Like I was connected to it.”

“Hn...strange.” There was no telling what that meant. The chance existed for more than one gift; Kisara certainly fit the descriptions as well. But it was all up in the air, subject to a prophecy that wasn’t fully translated. “Stay with him and see if you can feel...whatever this resonance was you felt before. _If_ it’s real.”

“Of course it’s real,” Kisara insisted, frowning. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Then force it out of him again. Unless you can’t.”

The empress and consort shared an uneasy glance, one that Kaiba hadn’t missed but chose to ignore. He found himself more interested in the view from the little porthole window next to Jounouchi’s bed, above a little writing desk strewn with jewellery laid out in a geometric pattern that had been cast aside for a half penned letter. The ink was no longer wet, but it was wrinkled and blotted with the steam from a teapot and stained with the medicine from the physician’s treatments. Outside the window gave a view to the small, but well-kept little garden. Tilled and filled with different sprouts and mounds of things to come. Flowers already budded along the walls while morning glory vines crept up a hand-built trellis snaking along a strip tucked against the back wall.

Even walking in felt a little different. The entry reminded him of the little dotted villages he passed through shortly after coronation. Simple, but clean. It had occurred to him that this was because of the nearly six month long procession—everyone knew the emperor was coming, and they were ready to kiss his feet and tails of his robes, declaring their allegiance. The countryside had its fair share of things to give; myths, stories, traditions, secrets. But they also had a soft, unwound personality. On the long carriage rides he would often eye the blushing vistas, endless fields of colourful flora and fauna, and forests teeming with life. They were mostly unknown to him. Before the coronation, he’d rarely left the palace to safe-guard him from threats.

Those vistas, those fields, those forests, had the sort of peaceful life that bloodshed hadn’t managed to take away. It set his goals of peace further into motion, undoing the very machinations that Gozaburo had long upheld from his ancestors before.

And Jounouchi had brought with him, in all his uncouth stubbornness, a little microcosm of Ne-Yah. It’s plains and it’s arid life. A twang of style not quite seen in Domi, but not exactly removed from the rest of the world, either.

“How is it that the garden is so clean, and yet the rest of this place is so lacklustre,” Kaiba commented. He turned around and looked the rest of the room over. It had been obvious when he walked in, but stood out even more against the garden. “Isono?”

“Sir?”

“Have someone come and deal with this...mess,” he ordered, waving his hand around the room.

“In what way, sire?”

Kaiba frowned. “In every way short of burning all of it. Do something.” He looked again to the garden, sensing that something was missing. Something that was large and pulled it all together. “Plant a magnolia tree.”

“Of course, sire.”

Kaiba turned to leave, Kisara in tow, before stopping and holding his hand out to her. “Stay here, Kisara.”

“Oh? Why?”

“You say he resonated with you. If it’s true, you should feel it again while he’s here. Or he’ll wake up. Either way, stay here.”

If Kisara didn’t know any better, she would have thought Seto was angry. But the Man was speaking to her. Asking, begging, in so many words.

She took his hand. “I’ll try my best.”

Seto squeezed back before slipping his hand out of hers. She could feel Anzu’s eyes on the back of her head, burning through her. Her Sisters were never good at hiding their feelings, even if, when she turned, Anzu had already returned to watching Jounouchi and speaking with Honda.

“I know you will,” Seto said. He threaded his fingers through her loose hairs before cupping her cheek. His clear eyes never left hers. “Keep an eye on the Empress, TeaTea. Don’t let her try too hard and hurt herself.”

“I-I won’t,” Anzu chirped.

“Good. I have to leave,” Seto said.

Kisara toes wiggled in her shoes, brushing into the silks until the grains became uncomfortable against the nails.

Kisara begged the Man for more, holding tight to his sleeve as he drew away. She didn’t care if Anzu was behind her or if Ishizu was in front, crossing the threshold and standing beside Isono, clearing her throat and hiding the shudder in her chest. Kisara begged for a kiss.

Seto leaned in and pressed his lips to her forehead. She stretched into the touch, clutching his robe sleeve tight. Warmth crept into her chest when he kissed her on the lips. Short. Almost not touching, feeling his soul vented in his breath.

“Go well, my King,” she said.

Nothing else in the world mattered to her right then. The warmth of the unseasonable spring day wasn’t afflicting her.

—

Ishizu rode behind the emperor’s procession. At some point, she had stopped stopped staring at the beads cascading down the back of his head and neckand started looking to her fingers. She fiddled with her rings, slipping them on and off each finger, though she never touched the red, yellow, and blue band on her pointer finger. A gift from her brother, a parting present where he had urged her to “remember where you are from.”

But Marik’s voice was distant.

In the some two years she’d been married to Seto Kaiba, a lot of Kul had been lost to her. Not so much in memory; those would never leave. The warm sands and the sharp cerulean skies. The times spent with her family as they trekked from temple to temple. She could still feel the sand between the creases of her skin. Kul never left you.

But since her marriage, her maids’ tongues had changed tone. Less lyrical and soft than in Kul. The music plucked in her rooms had lost some of its edge, and it was difficult to dance to. The energy gave way to Domi’s large and loud demeanour. The other concubines had praised the flute player as of late—she knew she wasn’t making up the changes. She could wear the clothes, sewn in form with Kul’s flowing, simple style, but it was still done by Palace seamstresses who knew nothing of Kul’s craft, not even if she showed them. The jewellery may have been imported special, but it wasn’t the same as the pieces she had made with her mother and brother.

This was what it meant to be the emperor’s consort, she supposed. She could be realistic and know that she couldn’t have _everything_ that she wanted. All the same, having Kaiba’s attention since she entered the palace, the gleam of her necklace always in his eyes, she knew she could get close.

This place wouldn’t swallow her. It wouldn’t swallow the history that she carried. Which, as she thought about it, meant that she could not let Kaiba forget history, either.

“Have you considered the old Gods?” she asked as she stood from the sedan chair.

“Gods?”

“With the situation with the Attendant; there is a chance that he could be more than prophecy.”

Kaiba hummed and stepped into her apartments, the door hanging open behind them.

Every time she invited him inside, Ishizu couldn’t help but grin softly. Though Kaiba was quiet, he was observant. He didn’t walk through a room, he memorised it. With his eyes, his hands. She showed him back through to her sitting area and saw as he ran his hand down the long bead strands she used for a door. He was logical and curious man, drawn to things he didn’t fully understand.

“What makes you think that?” Kaiba asked.

“It only makes sense. There is prophecy, yes, but who sets these gifts? Who reads these old prophecies? They are told through seers, who have contacts with the Old Gods, the Chosen Three. You cannot ignore that.”

One of her maids offered tea, but Kaiba declined. “What are you suggesting?”

“That the prophecy is dangerous. The Chosen Three were known to test the limits of men. They put them through trials, asked them to give their souls, their lives, their minds—“

“I’m aware.”

“All I suggest is that you be careful with him. His future isn’t...fruitful.” Ishizu bit her lip. What she saw when she touched Jounouchi was less about seeing, and more about what she couldn’t. Great light, but also great darkness. “His fate is...”

“Don’t speak of fate.”

“You can’t ignore it.”

“I don’t ask you to do readings because of fate. There’s no such thing as fate,” Kaiba hissed. “And I don’t recall asking you to read Jounouchi, either.”

“My curiosity got the better of me. If he really is the gift, then we can’t deny the possibility that the Chosen Three will try and do more harm than good. And if you manage to unlock it, then...there is no telling what sorts of consequences there will be.”

Kaiba snorted. “Your Gods aren’t real.”

“Then neither is your gift,” Ishizu countered. There was too much skepticism in Kaiba, a terrible byproduct of his logic. “There cannot be one without the other. The Chosen Three are in your history just as much as they’re in mine.”

“They’re seer’s songs.”

“And yet you listen to them. Your Majesty, please, listen to me now. I don’t want to see you hurt,” she said softly. She stepped closer, gripping his wrist with both hands. The silk he wore slid from her grip too easily. “These things are real, and they are dangerous. They are more power than a man can wield.”

“I’m no ordinary man.”

Ishizu bowed her head. Her grip tightened. “All I ask is that you keep your distance from Attendant Katsuya.”

“You’re jealous.”

“No,” she said coolly. Kaiba yanked his arm from her grip, but she immediately took it back. “I would never be jealous. I have never questioned your choices, Set.”

Kaiba turned away, but his fist unclenched in her grip. Her nails traced the lines in his palm, snaking down the love line before crossing to the life line. The kind of readings and superstitions Kaiba didn’t believe in, but she knew he didn’t deny her when he was in the right mood.

“You don’t lie well,” Kaiba said.

“I must have weaknesses then. That’s what it means to be human,” Ishizu replied. Kaiba winced. “And I worry this man is your weakness too, Set. Please, you must believe that I’m not jealous. Make him Noble Consort for all that I care, but lock him away. If he is the gift, then no one else will have him but you. No one can use that power against you, but it will also not destroy you. Set, look at me,” she turned his face her way. “I don’t want to see this harm you. I see nothing but blood in his future, and he’s entwined with yours...I don’t want to imagine that for you. You’ve suffered enough.”

The maid reapproached and poured a cup of juice, bowing her head before offering it to Kaiba. In the bottom, a small flower bloomed.

“Sit with me, Set. Tell me your worries.”

Kaiba took the cup and sipped from it, offering it to Ishizu. She happily took it. Of course he knew the customs of a married couple, as far as Kul believed. Nothing said a healthy marriage like sharing—marriage in however they were married. The customs in Domi didn’t say she was the main wife, but the title existed somewhere. As far as Kul was concerned, she was the wife to the emperor. That was part of the contract that both countries had decided on when they finally reached peace.

Eventually, they drifted to her sitting area. Kaiba didn’t tell her about anything important with the court, or even what was deeply on his mind, but she was happy to hear him talk. To talk back and tell him stories about Kul. For a realist, which he never said he was but she knew better, it was uncommon how much he liked myths and stories. A child somewhere deep in his heart, interested in magick and wonder but unwilling to give it to himself. “It’s all for Mokuba to have. Or a son, whenever they come.”

“Soon,” Ishizu said. “We’ll have a big family soon.”

“Mm.”

“Speaking of family, have you heard word of the delegation?” she asked, and she moved to sit behind him, helping him out of his robes. It was nighttime, and the sedan chair had been sent away. Without words, he’d selected her for the night. As she suspected he would, with Anzu and Kisara playing nurse to Jounouchi.

“Not yet.”

“They were supposed to be here by the festival.”

Kaiba unwound his sash and laid it carefully on the table. “I would tell you if they’d crossed through the Magi Pass. There were heavy rains that may have blocked the path. It may take several more days for them to go around.”

Ishizu tried to hide her disappointment with a weak smile, and she summoned her maid. In her native tongue, she said: “(Bring the wine).”

There was fear that the delegation had been caught in the heavy mudslides that happened this time of year. The Magi Pass was never maintained, not in wartime, and it hadn’t been so well tended to in peace, either. The very thought of whoever was coming with the delegation—Marik was vague in his last letter—succumbing to a mudslide scared her.

She drank half a cup of wine and passed the other half to Kaiba, petting his bare shoulder as he downed the rest.

—

The deep orange canopy over Jounouchi’s bed told him that he’d woken. His eyelids were lead heavy, and his body still so tired of wading and walking that he wasn’t sure if he’d ever slept at all. But the world wasn’t covered in the thick miasma. He was home—no, he was in Palace.

Rain pattered outside, and let a cool mist and breeze through the porthole.

Throwing his legs over the edge of the bed, Jounouchi sat up, taking two attempts to fully stand. Damn, his body hurt. The soles of his feet seemed to have gained a couple layers of callouses and deep imbedded aches, but when he looked at them, they were just as normal and fleshy as ever.

He wandered outside, dipping his feet in the thin layer of runoff rainwater collecting on between the cobblestones. His robe clung to his shoulders and down his back. The breeze was refreshing, but the rain was lukewarm.

The haze in his mind was lifting slowly, and the pains were ebbing away. He was back. Wherever he’d been was a dream. Just a dream. Just an incredibly real, tangible, familiar dream.

In the dull grey light, his garden shone through. The myriad bloom colours and their bright leaves and vines. The morning glories were blooming, but would vanish as soon as the sun reached it peak.

He stopped.

In what had been an empty space in his garden, a place he didn’t know what to do with, sat a tree. It was short, but not quite a sapling. Rods supported it from both sides, though it’s limbs still jounced in the rain. On it were little white buds.

Jounouchi went to walk forward but back-peddled instead. “Honda! Honda!”

He sprinted back into the room and shook Honda awake. The brunet shuddered awake and rolled off the bed.

“What! What!” Honda stretched out and batted back at Jounouchi. “The hell ya waking me up that way for, you...” he stared at Jounouchi wide-eyed before springing up and grabbing the blond’s arms. “Holy crap, you’re awake. This is great. You’re finally up you...are you alright?”

Honda’s hands pressed on Jounouchi’s forehead, his cheeks, his neck.

“I’m fine, man. You a’right?”

Agape, Honda nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, we were just worried about you is all. You’ve been out for four days.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. We went to see His Majesty and you were playing cards and then....whoosh! Bright light and you were out. Man, you sure you’re alright? Ya look out of it.”

Jounouchi scratched the back of his head and shrugged. The tiredness hit him worse the more Honda rambled. Four days. Bright light. He recalled the card game with Kaiba, and barely missing a win every time. “He didn’t knock me out, did he?”

“No way. It...well...they don’t know what happened. They think it might have been your...whatever, ya know?” Honda explained.

“I...guess?”

“Whatever. You’re back and you’re okay, right?”

“I think so. Kinda hungry.”

Honda beamed, patting Jounouchi’s shoulder. “Good! I can fix that at least. I’m gonna go let Her Majesty know you’re awake an’ get breakfast,” Honda said. He grabbed an umbrella and was ready to head out the door.

“Wait a sec. What...what’s with the tree outside? That’s what I woke ya up for.”

Honda glanced out and back again. “Buruaizu came to see you and thought that it needed to be put there. If ya ask me, that’s the least of it. Check out your apartment. Housing Ministry has been in and out since last night. Finally got a tea set that ain’t chipped, imagine that!” he barked as he left.

It had changed. More colour, more shine, more lustre. Fresh wood and linens. New window covers and brocade pillows. New lacquer partitions when he entered the lavatory, whose floor tiles had been reapplied. Mid-way through cleaning off, he heard Honda return, along with at least three or four sets of feet. More Housing Ministry, he supposed, though when he exited he immediately jumped back in when he saw the empress sitting on the settee, leaning against the table and taking a bowl of coffee from Honda.

He dressed and greeted Kisara before sitting across from her. “What uh...brings ya all the way out here?”

“I heard you were awake.”

“Yeah. I uh...I didn’t know I slept so long. I’m sorry,” Jounouchi said.

“Why are you apologising?”

The blond shrugged and happily took the cup of tea offered, along with several small plates of food laid out for them. He ate after Kisara picked out what she wanted, though he had to be tapped on the shoulder to be reminded by Honda not to shovel his face. Etiquette. Right.

“I dunno. Seems like I made a fuss,” he said. The tea was swirled in the cup. “Didn’t really want everyone freakin’ out over me. Especially not you. I’m sure you got a lot bigger things t’ worry ‘bout other than me.”

Kisara smiled from beneath the rim of her cup. “It’s alright to let people worry about you, Attendant. Even us.”

Jounouchi bit back a grin. Us. He couldn’t imagine Kisara referring to anyone other than Kaiba. He had passed out in front of Kaiba, so maybe it was just that he was feigning worry because he had to. Though he looked out to the tree, and it was hard to ignore that. Whatever that was supposed to mean.

“Yeah.”

“I’m serious,” she said with a giggle.

“Fine, yeah, okay,” he agreed. Who could say no to such a nice, sweet, kind face. “I still remember what ya said. Kindness where you can get it. That’s...this, ain’t it?”

“A little bit.”

Jounouchi let out a tight breath. Kaiba didn’t strike him as the worrying type. Maybe at a distance, where no one else could see him. Why would the emperor worry about someone like him? But it was interesting if it was true.

“How are you feeling, Attendant?” Kisara asked. “Sincerely?”

“I’m a’right. It kinda feels like I walked a million miles instead of sleepin’,” he said. Or maybe he did. The hazy, purple world he waded through never quite left his mind. “I could prolly lay down an’ sleep another twelve hours.”

Kisara’s smile faded. “Sounds terrible.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“Well, if you don’t want, it’s alright if you don’t come to the festival tonight. I’d hate to see you get any more sick because you didn’t let yourself rest,” Kisara said. “We always have lanterns somewhere; we can use those instead. Everyone will understand.”

Jounouchi had almost forgotten about the Orchid Festival. And those damn lanterns! He had to make those lanterns.

Turning to Honda, he mouthed ‘lanterns?’ Honda shook his head and sighed.

“I gotta confess,” Jounouchi said, turning back. “I ain’t finished them up. Or got started. No one told me I had to make them so I never knew. Gettin’ knocked out didn’t help any.”

“My, I imagine not,” Kisara said. She was quiet for more than a moment, staring deep into the bowl of coffee before sighing. “Somehow I shouldn’t be surprised you weren’t told. That’s alright. We can make them together, if you’re feeling well enough.”

“Oh yeah! I’m gonna go t’ the festival. Everyone’s been talkin’ about it. I gotta go.”

“Alright. Ai?”

The maid approached. “M’am?”

“Go to the warehouse and bring the paper and paints for the lanterns.”

The maid bowed and left out of the apartment with a guard in tow.

The maid returned in time that the rain had ceased. They moved onto the porch and began making the paper lanterns. One for each of the concubines, plus Kaiba and Mokuba. Three tiered bowl lanterns hanging off a thin stick, with little tea lights perched on prongs inside them.

It was more relaxing than Jounouchi would have anticipated. Folding the paper around the metal prongs and passing them down to Kisara and Honda, like a little assembly line. At one point, while waiting for the next lantern to be made, he spent the time to make small half-bird, half-horse folded animal creation. He set in front of Kisara.

“Oh, it’s so cute!” she cooed.

“Really?”

Kisara flapped it’s wings. “Absolutely. Ai, look at this,” Kisara said, displaying the little creature of her made. “How did you do this?”

“Me an’ my sister used t’ make ‘em all the time when we were kids.”

Kisara leaned into the paper folds, looking through them before resuming playing with the wings. “That’s so sweet. And this is adorable. Everyone would love these.”

“Ya think so?” Jounouchi asked. Kisara’s glowing smile made it hard for him not to smile, too. She reminded him of Shizuka in a way. The layers of her being empress shed for a moment, showing the barely grown woman underneath. “I can make more if ya want. Or...ya know what, I’ll show ya what I remember.”

“Will you?”

Jounouchi set the lanterns aside and pulled paper in front of both of them. The instruction didn’t go quite as well as he hoped that it might. There were a few paper cuts on his end, but eventually he and Kisara, as well as Honda and Ai, were making little animals and lining them up on the railing around the porch. A small army, some twelve or sixteen little animals. And Kisara never stopped smiling.

“You have a little talent here, Attendant.”

Jounouchi squeezed his eyes closed. “Nah, it’s just fun.”

“I’ve never seen it before. It’s lovely, and lively,” she said. The original animal was still played with. “You should work on it more. Maybe a Magick can bring them to life.”

“That’d be cool,” Honda replied. Jounouchi agreed.

The sun was high when they finished the lanterns, fastening the paper animals to the tops of them instead of painting them. They were gathered up and given one of her maids who delivered to be delivered to the banquet hall. “I must be going, Attendant. I need to finish dressing,” she said, taking his hands. “Have you planned what you’ll wear?”

“Nah, I’m sure there’s somethin’ in the closet.”

“It’s a big occasion; you should be more colourful,” she advised. “I’ve never seen you fix up your hair, do either you or Honda know how?”

Jounouchi chuckled. “It does its own thing mostly,” he said, running his fingers through his thickening bangs. His hair had been growing out because he didn’t know if, as the gift, if he was allowed to do anything to it. It was the only proof to what they claimed.

Kisara plucked the longer hairs. “Hm...we should fix that. Ai, go gather my things for the festival. I’ll dress here.”

Linking arms with Jounouchi, Kisara led him back inside and sat him in front of the mirror. She had Honda running back and forth, gathering different pins and outfit choices. She pulled his bangs out of his face and tucked them around his ears. She layered it carefully, leaving the short ends curled around his neck while tidying up the sides, fastening it back with jade and pearl.

“You should pierce your ears soon,” Kisara said.

“Boys do that?”

“Not usually. Palace men do, though.”

Jounouchi pinched the lobes of his ears, but was more taken aback by his hair. Kisara went to work carefully applying a lotion to his cheeks and a liner around his eyes. “Simple, but effective,” she said. “Now, we only have a few minutes. Get dressed and we’ll arrive together.”

Jounouchi’s heart was hammering, the view in the mirror wasn’t him. The eyes, the hair, the gloss-lined lips. This was terrifying. His father would have been so ashamed of him. Having Honda help him into the red, flowing robe tied tight with a violet sash didn’t help. It was cinched high to the neck, and his scarf wound around it. This wasn’t Jounouchi Katsuya. This wasn’t a magistrate’s son.  
  
Was it?

“You look lovely, Attendant. Red suits you,” Kisara said.

“T-thanks.”

Kisara selected several things from the jewellery box. A bead necklace that touched his stomach. A red jade bracelet and other thin silver bangles. A single thick ring on his pointer finger. He didn’t object to her selections, but shivered beneath the robe. This wasn’t fading back, existing in the palace and hoping he didn’t die. This was blazing through brightly and walking into the banquet hall just beside the empress, taking his seat at the far end of the U-shaped set-up.

Every pair of eyes were on him. His Sisters whispered to each other, leaning over form their place settings and nodding towards him.

Jounouchi played with the bangles on his wrist and ignored them. They were all dressed liked him. The long flowing robe in a single, vibrant colour and high collar. Formal clothes for special occasions. His mother had something like it, but he hadn’t remembered it until now. Because he didn’t want to think that he was his mother. His typical dress was like his father. Never in all his life had he wanted to be more like his father than right this moment.

A hand rested on his shoulder.

“Stand up,” Honda murmured. “They’re giving a toast.”

Jounouchi staggered up and grabbed his wine cup, raising it with both hands like the rest of the family. Only Kaiba sat.

Kisara began a short speech, though Jounouchi didn’t listen to it. Instead, he focused on the colourful room, bright as a flame and decorated to the brim with different spring flowers. Petals were strewn all over the floor in the middle of the set-up, and a troupe of foreign dancers sat cross-legged, their heads bowed towards the emperor and empress. The doors were open a courtyard ensconced in his lanterns, hanging from different perches manned by eunuchs. All this to welcome summer into the palace. Did summer need permission from the emperor to exist?

“Here’s to a mild summer and fruitful fall harvest,” Kisara finished, and she waited for Kaiba to drink before allowing herself, and the rest of the concubine, to do the the same.

Not long after, the dancers started up again, and the boom of music began from behind him somewhere. They enjoyed a long meal, with multiple courses of foods that Jounouchi had never seen in his life but he happily ate. His nervousness didn’t stop his appetite. It may have made it worse, he concluded.

“Kaiba looks bored,” Jounouchi said.

The brunet was leaned to the side, expressionless until Mokuba approached him from the side. They began playing cards in full view of everyone, laughing to themselves. On more than one occasion, Mokuba stuck his tongue out to his older brother, even shoved him.

“Everyone’s bored at these operas,” Honda said and waved his hand around the room. Most of the concubines had stood and drifted to someone else, sitting beside them and talking. “It’ll be over soon.”

“Damn, I hope so. I got no idea what’s going on.”

“Uh...prolly some story about family betrayal. That’s all these things are,” Honda snickered. “Or long lost love across the stars. Or kings fighting for succession. The more dramatic, the better.”

“Not,” Jounouchi replied. Honda snorted.

He wanted to get up and talk to Anzu, but his legs were weak. Either the dream or the fear still pooling in him. He didn’t want anyone seeing him in this stupid robe. He closed his eyes and almost drifted off amidst a slow orchestral number.

“Prince incoming,” Honda said.

“Eh?”

When Jounouchi opened his eyes, Mokuba stood in front of his table, his nose on the edge.

He jumped. “Holy shit, kid...”

Mokuba cackled and walked around, sitting beside Jounouchi. “You’re so weird.”

“Yeah, takes one to know one.”

Mokuba pulled the skin on his eye down. “Ass.”

“Oi, that ain’t princely.”

“It’s not exactly becoming of a concubine to say ‘shit’ either,” Mokuba countered. There was no arguing with this kid. Somehow, he believed Kaiba was to blame, and shot the emperor a look before turning back.

“What do ya want?”

Mokuba shrugged. “Not much. I just wanted to come talk to you and if you figured out anything about your gift,” he said. He sounded innocent, but there was a very clear gleam in his eye. “Seto told me about your big glowing trick, so something happened. So spill, what’d you see?”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, kiddo,” Jounouchi said. Trying to explain that dreamworld was strange enough. He didn’t even know if it had anything to with the gift. But he had dreamt it many times. “It ain’t nothin’, really.”

“You sure?”

“I dunno.”

“You know you swore on your life to me, right?” Mokuba asked.

Jounouchi searched his brain for that interaction, opening his mouth and then cinching it closed. “Maybe...?”

“You did. I wouldn’t forget that. You said ‘as soon as I can figure it out, I’ll tell you’. That’s what you said,” Mokuba said, matter-of-fact. He slid across the bench closer to Jounouchi. “You wouldn’t go back on your word to a prince, would you?”

“I...no...?”

“Good,” Mokuba said. Squeaky clean. This kid really was an evil little monster. “Whatcha see? Monsters? Aliens? Ghosts?”

Jounouchi didn’t know what made this kid so omnipotent, but compared to anyone else he could tell, Mokuba didn’t seem like a bad choice. He was curious.

So he told Mokuba about the adventure of falling off the cloud and walking towards the tower. He held Mokuba’s rapt attention, until he held his hands in his cheeks and was smiling wide. “I woke up ‘fore I got there though,” Jounouchi said. “Last I saw, I was gettin’ to this big outer wall, ya know?”

“Huh...wonder if you’ll go back.”

“Maybe. I dunno yet. It was freaky.”

“You’re a wuss,” Mokuba said. “It’s cool, Jou. Think about it, if it’s leading you somewhere, what might it tell you? What sorts of secrets does it know that it’s going to show you. Maybe it’ll tell you how to like...Like summon dragons or something.”

“Dragons ain’t real.”

“Yeah they are.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah-huh!” Mokuba sat on the edge of the table to be eye level with Jounouchi. “Of course they’re real. Seto thinks they’re real. And if he thinks you’re real, and you are, then why would he be wrong about the dragons?”

Jounouchi couldn’t argue with the logic of a kid who was completely enraptured with his big brother’s beliefs. He just chuckled and shrugged. “I dunno. But you better show me when a dragon shows up, ya hear me?”

“I swear.”

“Ooh, I got a prince to swear?” Jounouchi asked.

Mokuba crossed his fingers. “On my life.”

“Okay. And I’ll tell ya more of the dreams if I see ‘em, alright?”

Mokuba nodded, and he took the plate of dessert that was delivered to Jounouchi, hoarding it close. “Payment for my swear,” he said, swallowing one of the hazelnut puffs whole. Jounouchi rolled his eyes. A little dictator, this one. He tried imagining Mokuba as the emperor and just laughed. “You like the festival?” Mokuba asked with his mouth full.

“It’s neat. Different from back home.”

“You haven’t gotten to the fun part yet,” Mokuba said. He did give one of the puffs to Jounouchi. “After we’re done eating, we play games in the dark. All of the consorts get together and they play blindfold tag. There’s also the little game where we all use the lantern light to go through the hedge maze. Even with the lanterns you can only see like...a foot ahead of you. They turn off all the lights.”

“Sounds scary.”

Mokuba shrugged. “Not really. I mean, that depends on who plays the Orchid Spirit.”

Jounouchi blinked and withheld a shiver. “Spirit?”

“Yep. Seto’s going to pick one of you guys, probably his favourite so....Ishizu?...to play the Spirit. So while you guys are all wandering through the maze and trying to make it to the end, the Spirit comes around and tries to chase you a little. If you get caught, you get your lantern taken away and need to finish without it.”

“That’s...terrifying...”

“It’s fun. Trust me. Though someone always gets lost in the middle. Last year it was Miho. She was crying a whole lot by the time big brother got to her, which sort of made Ishizu mad, but whatever. She can get over it,” Mokuba said. He glanced up as a guard approached him, and the rest of the concubines were standing once Kaiba descended from his perch at the head of the table. “It’s starting Jou, c’mon,” Mokuba said, and he took Jounouchi’s hand to lead him out to the courtyard.

Everyone was lined up by rank with Kisara at the far left beside Mokuba, and Jounouchi at the far right beside a girl who’s name he didn’t know.

He wriggled in place as his lanterns were handed out, and everyone seemed to take notice of the little folded animals at the top, with Kisara happily showing Mokuba the working wings on hers before it went down the line.

Jounouchi’s attention was dead ahead to Kaiba, flanked by Isono and Fugata, another right-hand (left-hand?), both of whom he spoke to lightly before taking a large orchid bloom in hand. Gods, he never felt so small and ashamed of how he looked. Even if his goal was to get in Kaiba’s graces enough to save his family, the robe made him somehow feel more exposed than the one he wore to his first night.

“This is the largest bloom we’ve seen in years,” Kaiba said, admiring the flower. “It is the first bloom from my personal garden, too. Some are telling me it’s auspicious.”

Some of his Sisters laughed. Jounouchi swallowed and prayed he wasn’t picked. He didn’t want that attention. His heart throbbed his chest; no, no, no. He was fine how he was with the nice pillows and the tree. That was enough.

“Whether it is or not, we need a Spirit to begin the festivities for the rest of the evening,” Kaiba said. “One of you must think you represent the death of spring and the birth of summer. I wonder who...”

Kaiba walked in front of them, pacing. He displayed the orchid, which shimmered supernaturally in the lantern lights, to each of the family members. Some giggled, some leaned forward. Kaiba smirked at all of them. He must have passed in front of them all three times (enough that Jounouchi heard Mokuba groan) before he settled in front of Jounouchi.

Jounouchi looked Kaiba in the eye before glancing to his feet.

“You’re awake, puppy.”

“I am.”

Kaiba’s cheeks were bright red. Too much wine, Jounouchi concluded, which was why he must have begun laughing hard. “You’re not begging for the flower?”

“Am I s’pose to? I dunno how all this stuff goes,” Jounouchi said.

Kaiba glanced down the line and looked back. “They are. And puppies tend to beg their masters.”

“Told ya that I ain’t no puppy. I’m a Servin’ Attendant.”

The expression on Kaiba’s face melted between curiosity and unsureness. Jounouchi couldn’t prove it, but the way Kaiba’s brows settled and his lips thinned suggested it. The wine had gotten to him some, and the regal air he retained seemed to be dispelled. The sweetness of the orchid could be to blame. Maybe just indigestion from the rich food.

He raised Jounouchi’s head to meet eye to eye. “You still don’t know when not to speak.”

“Not really.”

“You aren’t a fast learner, then.”

“Only on some things,” Jounouchi replied. Kaiba’s hand raised and pressed the flower against Jounouchi’s hair, slipping the stem into the pearl pin just above his ear. “Don’t...I’m alright...”

“You’re getting this.”

“It ain’t fair.”

“I’m the emperor. It’s fair if I say it’s fair,” Kaiba said, and he finished pinching it beneath the pin.

Jounouchi looked off, but couldn’t fight the fierce look in Kaiba’s eyes. Deep and thick, like the water he’d waded through. “The tree ain’t fair, either,” he added with courage beating against his ribs. “I didn’t win that card game, ya know. I wanna win things fair and square.”

“You’d deny my gift to you?”

Jounouchi shrugged. “I wanna win it rightfully. Not jus’ have you give me things.”

“Hmph. So you have more pride and guts than I thought,” Kaiba said. He raised his hand. “Let the festivities begin!”

The rest of the concubines began into the hedge maze, leaving Kaiba alone with Jounouchi. He felt uneasy, stared down by the emperor. “You want to win it, puppy? Collect every lantern in the maze. That includes mine and Mokuba’s, if you can. Then you’ll have won your tree, hm?”

“You’re on.”

“My puppy is cocky.”

“You have no idea,” Jounouchi said.

Without warning, Kaiba leaned in and kissed him chastely. He tried to lean into a bit more, but almost tumbled forward when Kaiba moved back.

“Don’t lose. There will be consequences you can’t even dream of,” Kaiba challenged as he backed towards the maze.

“Like what?”

But Kaiba disappeared into the maze, his lantern light vanishing in an instant. Jounouchi was made of wait by Isono who warmly patted him on the shoulder. He almost didn’t know if he wanted to win or lose.

Soon, he was released into the fray. Only one way to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm...
> 
> Well, there’s definitely some little strifes popping up, different relationships and...Jou getting some favour going on. Tell me what you think!


	6. Year 1, Early Summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long because I’ve been on a bit of a hiatus. Hopefully back in the groove.

The hedge maze was about one and a half times as tall as Jounouchi, so tall that he couldn’t see over the edges on his tip toes. The sconces were extinguished for the evening, and only silver bands of moonlight guided him along. That, and the ethereal glow of the orchid, permeating just a little further than his lantern.

At first, he took slow steps. The ground was wet, and the grass was coarse. He nearly sank into the loose dirt. He Sisters couldn’t be fairing well in their high-top shoes.

He meandered, spinning in circles around to try and make markers so he didn’t get lost. He and Honda hadn’t entered the hedge maze, though they always said they would. He felt foreign to it—and he bet the other concubine knew it more keenly than he did. Someone smart like Ishizu could plan their way out. Not to mention Kaiba and Mokuba; they’d been here since birth. They would be he hardest to catch.

It didn’t take long to find two ladies, however. One quick turn and Jounouchi saw the glow of their lanterns close together. They walked arm-in-arm, supporting each other along the muddy terrain, speaking hushed. He tapped one’s shoulder. The first jumped, the other spun around.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, hands waving. The ladies looked at each other dejected, and one handed the lantern over with ease.

“I told you we should have gone left,” the first said.

The other lantern was handed over. “Well, either way...”

Jounouchi wished he knew their names. Hana and Mari, maybe? He hadn’t kept track, though he always sitting next to them in morning greetings. They were sweet, kept to themselves, and seemed to be awfully friendly. As long as they were happy, he supposed.

“O hail, Great Festival Spirit,” they chorused, arms splayed wide as they bowed.

“O...hail...?” Jounouchi asked, taken aback by their reaction.

They said nothing else, giggling as they jogged ahead and away from him, disappearing around a corner. He ended up laughing at himself and went ahead, juggling the three lanterns he now held. Even with just three, he could see how this was a hassle. There were going to be at least seven more (or was it eight?) that he had to carry all the way to end, assuming that he could catch up with everyone.

He wasn’t really sure if he wanted to.

Kaiba had offered him something unknown in loss, something he made seem like a prize instead of a punished. But he wasn’t content with losing. It meant that he was trading the undeserved, but severely wanted, magnolia tree for a prize that may or may not have been satisfying.

Jounouchi pressed on. Another girl he couldn’t remember, of Lady rank, was a few turns further. And in those few turns, he hadn’t memorised where he’d gone. Everything was the same. The leaves, the grass, the overcast sky. He turned around several times and told himself he had six lanterns to go. Six until victory.

He hummed, quiet and low. The crickets chirped in unison as he scoured the area, pace by pace, feeling for the little holes the shoe prints left, or he thought they left, while he rounded another turn. Then another. Then another. This maze was as bad as his dreamland—there was no telling when he would reach the end, if he was going the right way.

But he pressed on, his hum turning into a gentle whistle of an old folk tune his mother would sing to him, about the mountains creeping forward, eating the prairies and building themselves stronger. He, in turn, would hum it to Shizuka while he clapped his hands on his knees and she danced around in the front yard. She’d throw dirt and grass in the air and call it magick. Jounouchi smiled to himself as he walked, his eyes forward.

Light was in the distance.

He recognised Anzu’s graceful walk and her bright green dress. Creeping up on his tiptoes, he pounced, poking her in the back with a lantern. “Jou!” she shrieked and jumped to face him.

“Your Lantern or your life, Consort,” he said, jabbing her again.

Anzu frowned. “That’s not nice.”

“Eh. I’m tryin’ not t’ get all scared in here. I get turned around an’ I’ll prolly die.”

Reluctantly, she passed the lantern to him and muttered ‘O hail, Great Festival Spirit’ while he organised it with the others. One pole was slid between each finger, but he could only grip so many. His fingers were starting to cramp.

“So what’s the plan now?” Anzu asked.

They walked together. “I haven’t figured that out yet. Wasn’t exactly expectin’ this.”

“Me either. Ishizu was the Spirit last year, and I heard the year before that.”

“No kiddin’?”

Anzu wrapped her arm around his and looked at the four-way stop. Jounouchi could hear laughter in the distance. “Yeah. I’m surprised it’s never been Her Majesty, but maybe he’s just being...fair since she’s already the empress.”

“Maybe.”

“Either way, this is good news for you,” Anzu said. Jounouchi nudged her to the right. “Everyone will forget about this whole...first night thing. Since this more or less makes you the favourite.”

“I don’t wanna be the favourite.”

“Why not?”

Jounouchi pinched his lips and looked to the ground. “Too much hassle. I’m already this...gift or whatever. I don’t really wanna have too much t’ worry about. Jus’, ya know, live. Make sure my family is okay. Make a few friends an’ keep ‘em for a long time.”

Anzu nudged him in the ribs. “You’re really lucky to be here for that then. No better place for all that than the palace.”

Jounouchi clicked his tongue. Luck. Luck was such a strange word. “I dunno ‘bout that.”

“You’re not?”

“Nah. Luck is...well, my pa had a saying: ‘Luck never gives, it only lends’.”

Anzu hummed, but he doubted she was paying much attention. Though, the more Jounouchi thought about it, the more he had been thinking on luck as of late. Lucky to not have died, to have been thrown in the harem. Lucky to have been left alone, but also made a few friends. Lucky to have a gift, but not know what it was or how to use it. Lucky to be considered the favourite now, without doing anything. He didn’t trust luck much though. Without his father’s poor gambling luck, he wouldn’t have been here in the first place.

“May as well take the luck, though,” said Anzu.

“...I suppose.”

Anzu broke away. “I’m gonna go ahead. Good luck finding the rest, Jou,” she said, and she laughed in her irony as she rounded another corner. Jounouchi took the opposite direction, sticking his tongue out her and continuing the trek.

Halfway through the maze—what he thought was halfway through—he found the other girl who’s name he didn’t know. That left Kisara, Ishizu, Miho, Mokuba and Kaiba. Challenge time.

He picked up the pace, curling his hands in the robe and taking turn after turn, row after row and following the sounds of footsteps and laughter. The rest of them wouldn’t walk together. They may have already made it to the end. Finding them would definitely be luck; good luck for his tree, bad luck for his surprise.

Eventually, he caught up to the Empress, taking her time and running her fingers along the leaves. “Oh darn,” she chuckled, and bowed as graceful as the crane on her lantern. “O hail, Great Festival Spirit.”

Jounouchi’s cheeks warmed, and he muttered thanks as she affixed the orchid behind his hairpin and helped him readjust the lanterns in his hands.

Before she left, she plucked the crane off of her lantern and kept it. “I don’t want to lose this, it’s so sweet,” she said as she wandered off.

Eventually, he came to a large middle area. A short dais with grooved, stone benches under a thatched gazebo. There were eight paths leading outwards. He began walking around them with his eyes closed, unable to choose a direction. Panicking, he sung to himself: “One lantern, two lanterns, three lanterns, four....five lanterns, six lanterns, seven lanterns, eight lanterns, door.”

He took the path he stood in front of and ran. Turn after turn. Dead end after dead end. It went on forever. The voices and the chirps of the crickets grew dimmer still, and his head was spinning as he rushed out of a rounded path and almost into someone, tripping over the train of his robe and toppling into someone.

“Oi, I’m sorry, Miho,” he said. He stood and pulled her to her feet.

“That’s _Lady_ Miho, Attendant.”

“Right, yeah.” Jounouchi forgot that he and Miho didn’t get along too much. He wanted to be nice, and he tried to wipe her sleeve off with his elbow. “Y’alright?”

“I guess,” she huffed. “You should watch where you’re going.”

“Sorry...I ain’t too good at walkin’ around like this. Ya know, in this..,” Jounouchi flicked the robe about, “stuff.”

Miho glanced at the ground, sneering. “Your dress is so gross.”

“Kinda. Mud’s all over it,” he agreed, pulling it close. It fell out of his hands, the messy train folding over the bare arches of his feet. He made sure to tuck them under. “Gonna be a helluva thing to clean.”

“You’ll work Hiroto to the bone cleaning it. You don’t deserve a kind man like him. Or any man,” Miho said, almost offended for Honda’s sake. She tossed the lantern at him and added, blandly: “O hail, Great Festival Spirit. Not that it matters. The only reason anyone likes you is you’re the gift, you know.”

Jaw hung open, Jounouchi watched her traipse off, and he lowered his head before saying anything terrible. Hot air blew out his nostrils. He jabbed the lanterns around, working out the fury, before running headfirst into finding the other three.

He ran. Turn by turn, path by path, following the sounds of people’s voice, their footsteps, the howling of the wind through the leaves. The immense light he had gathered made everything cast longer, darker shadows.

There was a short one bounding ahead of him.

The run became a sprint. He yanked the train up and juggled the lanterns, chasing the wisp of a shadow he knew had to be Mokuba. It was too short and mischievous. The boy liked games and trouble. Jounouchi almost toppled over a pair of Sisters from earlier, muttering apologies while they laughed at him and pointed in opposite directions. Mokuba was so close. So close...!

Jounouchi skidded to a stop, catching his breath. He was a hair short of Ishizu, standing in the middle of a crossroads. She regarded him knowingly, her necklace gleaming bright. Her eyes looked nowhere, unfocused and dim, as she reached out and touched his wrist.

“In a hurry, Attendant?”

“I...uh...” Jounouchi sucked in a deep breath and held it. Ishizu’s hand crept up his arm. “I was followin’ Mokuba. You seen him? One uh...spirit to another?”

Ishizu’s hand dropped away. “He’s about two turns ahead by now,” she answered simply. “Right, both of them, but he’ll lead you in circles if you aren’t careful.”

“I figured as much.”

“He is a handful,” Ishizu said, chuckling behind her hand. She bowed her head just slightly, saying something in her foreign tongue before slipping the lantern into his hand. She began to saunter off. “Congratulations on being the Spirit. I wish you luck on the rest of your night.”

“Thanks. For both.”

And Jounouchi continued ahead, only pausing a moment to look back and find that Ishizu hadn’t stepped very far. Her fingers delicately caressed her necklace, her eyes closed. His skin shivered, knowing she was looking into the future, though for who, or for what, was a mystery.

There was no time to ask. He bolted the two rights ahead, and found that she was correct. Mokuba was turning another corner, though headed backwards. The end was just in sight. He could see lamps overhead. With that in mind, he threw all of his energy into his search, running until his feet were numb and thighs were burning. At the very edge, he cut in front of Mokuba, blocking the exit. The boy tried to scamper by, almost crawling under his robes, but he yanked Mokuba back out.

“Nah-uh. Lantern first.”

“I won!” Mokuba protested.

“Line is here,” Jounouchi said, stomping between the mud and cobblestone. Mokuba grumbled. “Lantern’s mine, kiddo.”

“Whatever.” Mokuba threw the lantern in between Jounouchi’s arms. “It’s not like you won anyways, you only have ten lanterns.”

“So?”

“Did you even see my brother?”

“Y-Yes!” Jounouchi stuttered. “At the start.”

“Yeah, uh-huh.” Mokuba sauntered by him, and splayed his arms out to the pair of short chairs positioned directly in front of the exit.

Kaiba sat in one, his legs folded to the side, the lantern waving delicately about, enough to make the little folded dragon on top seem as though it fluttered in the breeze. His mouth curled into a tiny smirk, and his blue eyes casing Jounouchi through his lashes.

“Guess I gotta face the consequences,” said Jounouchi. Flush crept up his back.

“Very astute.”

“So what are they? Other than the tree bein’ gone?” He didn’t feel deserving of Kaiba’s critical look. His body was slick with sweat and mud. He was tired, almost dizzy.

More footsteps paraded from behind him. Most of the Sisters had formed a group and led each other out in a line. Kisara brushed by him, and he expected her to sit in the chair, but she didn’t.

“Come, puppy. Stop looking like a fool,” Kaiba said.

“Eh?”

Flippantly, a second chair was motioned to with Kaiba’s fan. While it sat just lower than the emperor’s, Jounouchi didn’t feel right lowered himself into it. The lanterns were passed off before he did, given to the nearby eunuchs. As he settled, a necklace of petals was wrapped around his neck, fastened to his scarf, and a cup of wine was given to him.

Every pair of eyes bored into him from afar. All of his Sisters, their maids, the servants. Kisara stood next to him, pouring wine like Honda, standing nearby, might. He felt small and strange; he curled into his robes.

After Kisara, each of the Sisters approached, filling the cup of wine and offering it to him. By the third, his head was spinning. It was the same fragrant wine from the first night with Kaiba, though now it coursed through his veins. His body was light, filled with laughter and rumbling with euphoria. Colours blended together, and after a while, he didn’t mind where he was sitting, his embarrassment, his fear, flittered away and he sunk further into the chair, constantly affixing his robe—“dress”, he heard Miho spit—thinking he needed to sit like a lady. Because he was a lady. He was the damned emperor’s concubine, and emperor’s didn’t keep lords. They ordered lords around, made them do their bidding, but they didn’t keep them, horde them, lock them away from the rest of the world and shower them in jewels and finery.

Another cup was downed.

Kaiba drank, too. His cheeks were red. His eyelids were heavy. But his mouth was wet and pink and plump. Jounouchi leaned close to him. Wine sloshed in his belly and he fought back a burp, laughing as he did. “Nah, no doin’ that. H’rem ladies don’t...don’t do that...”

“Hm?”

“Nothin’. Jus’...thinkin’ an’ talkin’.”

“Talk less, puppy.”

“I...I gotta get up. My head’s all...mm...messy. An’ I gotta go t’ the lav-lavish-,” Jounouchi took a breath and was inhaling the next cup as he did. Miho’s lavender hair blurred in his peripheral. “I gotta take a leak.”

A fan swatted Jounouchi’s knuckles. “That’s enough,” Kaiba chided.

“But, I do.”

“Wait for the end of the ceremony.”

“Whenever that is.” Jounouchi held back a hiccup and ran his fingers down the beaded necklace. “We should plays cards again.”

“Hn.”

“Right now,” Jounouchi added. Another cup was given to him by a boot of lavender hair. “We’re not doin’ much, y’know? An’...an’ we’re gettin’ crazy with the wine. Could be a fun time.”

“Fun?” Kaiba asked. Even drunk, Jounouchi picked out his confusion. He hoped Kaiba was an honest drunk, but then, he was the head of the ministers and courtiers—the Delegation of Liars, as his father called them. He would be an expert. “Being drunk wouldn’t be fun. You wouldn’t give me half the challenge you did before. And you weren’t challenging to begin with.”

“Says you,” Jounouchi said, puckering his lips. That hurt a bit. “I almost had ya. An’ I still want m’tree. Didn’t get it this way....an’...an’ I dunno what the consequence is, but I still want the tree, too.”

Kaiba chuckled. “You’re so needy.”

“Want-y.”

The curious glance caught Jounouchi off guard. Deep, sapphire eyes, heavy with drink and drowning in it, cased the blond for answers. “How so?”

“I dun’need nothin’. I jus’ want. So....want-y. Fair an’ square-y,” Jounouchi said. He laughed at himself until tears formed. He almost didn’t notice Kaiba touch his wrist and move the bangles out of the way to hold it.

“If you want fun,” he began, and he leaned over until his mouth touched Jounouchi’s ear. “Wait until you see how the ceremony ends. Your punishment for losing, my fair concubine.”

A shiver shot down Jounouchi’s spine. His ears boiled, and the words prickled across his skin like living, breathing creatures. The emperor’s commanding, domineering voice, however gruff and mean, was a sultry melody in his ear. The words effected him, and his manhood hardened. He clenched his legs together, knowing it was the love wine doing the talking. Mostly. Those words, that voice, that touch...he slid down in his seat and nodded, mindless of those watching and listening.

“O-okay.”

—

“It’s time to go, Attendant,” said Kisara.

Jounouchi wasn’t very conscious, even if he was likely buttoning back a laughter at that Seto had said, because even the brunet sported a thin lipped smile. The ceremony had, for lack of better words,done the trick. As it always did.

Regardless of winning or losing the emperor’s challenge, the Spirit of the Festival would drink their fill, with the help of the Sisters, and be led to the baths for the rest of the evening. It had been this way since the beginning of the dynasty. Though, sadly, Kisara knew it was meant to help even the most shy of emperors or concubines in creating an heir. So it didn’t surprise her that most of her Sisters had bristled at Jounouchi being selected.

Kisara let it roll of her back. There were hundreds of other days and chances. This was just formality.

Helping Jounouchi up, Kisara nudged him out of the garden and on the path to the baths. He stumbled but refused help, holding his head high. My, the strength of this one.

“Ladies, come.” She waved them to encircle Jounouchi in precession to the baths. Each was given their lantern to cross the dark path. “Keep the Spirit steady. We will offer our goodwill and best wishes.”

“I don’t know why,” Miho whispered.

One of the Sisters giggled. “Perhaps it will help in the bed, compared to last time,” was the response.

“It’s not as if he can make babies,” another girl, an Honourable Attendant, said. The three of them giggled until Kisara passed them by, silencing them with a glance and taking up the rear. It was best that Seto didn’t hear their little slurs—he was be just as infuriated as she was, but less kind. For her, it was a truth. Jounouchi couldn’t produce heirs, so this felt pointless. But that wasn’t her choice. In the end, it was for the Man’s happiness, not Buruaizu’s duty. If Jounouchi made him happy, then he made the entire harem happy.

“Remember that the wind has ears,” Kisara advised.

The Honourable Attendant yipped, and the instigator bowed her head. Miho didn’t say a word and shifted forward to walk behind Ishizu, speaking to her and casting glanced back at Kisara.

Mellow conversation continued across the Palace grounds. It quieted as they reached a short hill with stairs carved into the embankment. At that, Anzu took Jounouchi’s arm and helped him down, step by step.

“Be careful, Attendant,” Ishizu advised. “The stairs are steep. Plenty of Sisters have fallen down them while sober.”

“I’ll try. It’s dark.” Jounouchi held out his free arm for balance. “Ain’t seen this place a’fore.”

Kisara eased closer. “That’s because it’s for special occasions, and only with the emperor’s permission. It’s a natural hot spring. The Seiyaryu Emperor had decided this location for the Palace because it,” Kisara said. The circular building was distinct from the rest of Palace, designed to look as though it existed in a small farming village. Plain an unimposing, save for the stone-carved statues of Fertility and Grace that encircled it like a shrine. “This building is older than the Palace.”

“Is tha’ right?” Jounouchi asked. He made it down the last step. “But I thought the first emperor was a myth o’ sorts.”

“Not so much. He was born a farmer, but the Chosen Three anointed him as their delegate. He was the king of the people,” Kisara said. “The Palace was originally built as a safe haven for those in the war ravaged countryside. At the time, every province was a kingdom, which meant they all had a warlord. So when he united the surrounding provinces, he the people needed somewhere to relax, to rebuild themselves. So he secured the spring for rejuvenation, and the Palace for a place to stay. Domi built up around it not long after.”

“Oh, wow, that’s—,”

The sharp rip of fabric cut through Jounouchi’s words. In an instant, he crashed into the cobblestone, motionless and moaning. For a split second, Kisara saw Miho untangle her shoe from the hem of Jounouchi’s dress. Her attention went back to Jounouchi.

Anzu knelt beside Jounouchi, the other Sisters reaching out to help him. “Are you okay, Jou?” Anzu asked.

“I guess...”

“You’re not hurt?” Ishizu asked, knelt on the opposite side of Jounouchi.

“M’okay. Nothin’s broken, I don’t think.”

They went to rise, though he was stopped and nudged him back down. “Attendant, did you lose your shoes when you fell?” Ishizu asked, her eyes cast down at his exposed legs tangled in the ripped mess of dress.

Jounouchi jolted up. “What now?”

“Your shoes,” Ishizu repeated.

Kisara approached, surprised by Jounouchi’s bare, mud-caked feet. He curled them closer to his body. She turned to her maid. “Ai? Look for Attendant Katsuya’s shoes. Get the others,” Kisara ordered.

A half a dozen maids scoured the area.

Miho snorted. “It’s useless to look, Your Majesty.”

“And why is that?”

“Because he wasn’t wearing any to begin with,” Miho accused.

Sitting upright, Jounouchi covered his feet and legs and proceeded to wipe the dust from his sleeves and thighs. He wavered where he sat, his expression pained, though Kisara worried it was born of more than physical pain. When she looked him in the eye, he looked off.

“We don’t make baseless accusations, Sister Miho,” Kisara said, tersely.

“It’s not baseless. He hasn’t worn them for months.”

“You don’t know that!” Anzu spat. “I’ve spent more time with the Attendant. I can promise you, he’s worn shoes.”

Miho crossed her arms. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”

“I don’t have to,” asserted Anzu. “He doesn’t wander around the Palace without shoes.”

“How should I know? He’s from Ne-Yah. We don’t know how they operate out there; maybe shoes are just a formality...” Miho replied. A few chuckles were passed around. “If that’s the case, it’s not really his fault. Though, it would fall on his superiors to explain it to him. Right, Consort?”

Kisara frowned. “That is enough, Sister Miho.”

Miho bowed her head to Kisara, exaggerated. “I ask reasonably, Your Majesty. Did you, or did you not explain to Attendant Katsuya that he needed to wear shoes? Did Consort Anzu?”

“Did Ishizu?” Anzu asked back.

Calmly, Ishizu folded her hands at her waist. “I had not considered the possibility, though I would understand the miscommunication.”

“It ain’t that! I ain’t some country hick,” Jounouchi said, glaring at Miho. The girl took a step back, sidling by Ishizu. “Whazzit matter anyways? They’re jus’ shoes.”

The maids returned to Kisara and shook their heads. A sigh rippled through her. She didn’t focus on anyone precisely, but she found her heart heavy as she considered the complications of this matter. What she thought she saw Miho do, on accident or on purpose, versus what everyone accused Jounouchi of. The severity of which hadn’t been broached yet.

“Were you wearing shoes this evening, Attendant?” Kisara asked.

Jounouchi’s lip popped out. His head dropped. “No. I din’t think it was gonna make everyone freak out. The dress’s hard ‘nough t’ walk in.”

“Its unpropitious.”

“Oh.”

Silence fell amongst the ladies. In that silence, Kisara considered the later arguments, and whether or not she and had noticed Jounouchi going barefoot beforehand.

“So he tried to rig the contest then, and he still didn’t win,” Miho said.

“I din’t know ‘bout the contest.”

Miho rolled her eyes. “So you say. But Consort Anzu could have told you. The Empress could have told you.”

Anzu scoffed. “I didn’t tell him anything.”

“Honda coulda tol’ me, too,” Jounouchi sneered. “Don’t mean he did.”

Pain squeezed at Kisara’s heart, watching Jounouchi being attacked. This was going poorly. The mood was not on his side. Whispers ran amok, and while Anzu was staunchly settled next to him, Ishizu made no effort one way or the other. Her saying nothing was just as powerful; she let Miho make all the arguments, instead.

“Your thoughts, Sister Ishizu?”

Ishizu’s owl eyes widened. “It is indeed inauspicious. Whether or not the Attendant was aware of tonight’s festivities, walking around barefoot suggests something more direct. He is making it very obvious how much he wishes to share Buruaizu’s bed, as if he’s always walking to the chambers on the first night. Why else be barefoot. It’s tasteless and rude.”

Jounouchi’s brows furrowed. “I what now?”

Ishizu continued: “The others share your want, Attendant. We all wish to perform our duty, but we wait as we should.”

“I ain’t...I don’t want....I don’t mean that!”

“Ha, that’s cute,” Miho snorted. “You’ve made it obvious since you’ve gotten here.”

Anzu jumped up. “Be quiet. You have no idea what you’re talking about. All you do is spread gossip and lies!”

Miho’s hands flew to her chest. “Is that how you really think of me? Aren’t we friends?”

“We are. And as your friend, I’m telling you that you’re lying,” Anzu said. For a moment, her eyes lingered on Ishizu before turning to Kisara. “They’re trying to slander Jou because of this, Your Majesty. He doesn’t know what’s going on, this isn’t fair to him. He made a mistake, be considerate about it, please.”

“He is also drunk,” Ishizu mentioned. “He is not very cognisant of anything.”

“Hey! M’jus’ fine. I know what’s up.” Jounouchi stood, wavering. “I can defend myself. I...I din’t wear shoes, but I din’t mean nothin’. They’re ladies shoes, an’ I dunno how t’ walk’n ‘em.”

The corners of Ishizu’s mouth curled up. “But you are a lady, Attendant. In the eyes of the state and the Heavens, you are an imperial concubine, Buruaizu’s wife before the law. Consider every weight that carries for you and everything that it implies for your duty and honour.”

Jounouchi’s clenched handfuls of his dress, but they soon unraveled as the information sank in. His chin touched his chest, and he took slow, steady breaths. Though Kisara couldn’t make out his face, she knew the gentle sounds of tears being bitten back.

Anzu’s snaked her arm around Jounouchi’s elbow.

“What’s going on?” Seto’s voice boomed. “Why are you all standing down here gossiping?”

The group prostrated together, aware of the severity of the tone. Anzu helped Jounouchi to the ground, though he fell forward, bracing his hands on the ground.

“Apologies, Imperial Majesty,” Ishizu began. “We’ve had an incident occur on the way to the baths. It appears that Attendant Katsuya has been barefoot this entire time, and we wonder if, perhaps, it may disqualify him from this ceremony.”

“So you held a tribunal?” Seto sneered. He stood in front of Jounouchi. “Show me.”

Jounouchi didn’t move. His shook and let out a shuddered breath, instead. After a moment, his fingers curled in and he slung the ripped dress back, revealing his feet and legs. He tore it up to his hip and held it there, defiant, while the Sisters muttered amongst themselves.

“Quiet, all of you! You all talk too much,” Seto roared. Silence simmered, and he continued: “Kisara, explain.”

And she did, listing all of the players and the fact that Jounouchi admitted that he had come barefoot. Something pensive remained on Seto’s brow throughout. Though his face was blotted with drunken blush, he remained forward and focused, his eyes never leaving Jounouchi. In turn, Jounouchi never backed down, and held the remnants of his dress in a manner others, most definitely, believed was barbaric.

Kisara ended with, “I believe that, perhaps, Lady Miho stepped on the edge of his dress.”

“I—,” Miho began. Seto pointed his fan to Miho, and her jaw shut.

“And what is your verdict then, Empress?” Seto asked.

“I hadn’t considered one yet. We were still discussing it.”

“Hmph.” Seto circled Jounouchi, his hand sliding under along the frayed edges of silk.

Ishizu bowed her head. “If I may. I think it best if he understands his err by perhaps being stripped to his loins and remaining that way for a set number of days. Let him see the length of his rudeness.”

“Rudeness,” Seto repeated.

“That’s ridiculous. He made a mistake,” Anzu interjected. “He didn’t even know what he was doing; why punish him for being naïve? The lesson’s been learned. Besides, it’s the night of the Festival. We can’t be inauspicious about it.”

Ishizu’s eyes glowed. “Then the attendant shouldn’t have incited it.”

“I said I din’t mean it. C’mon, ya gotta believe me,” Jounouchi said. Using his fan, Seto lifted Jounouchi’s chin. Honey eyes locked with Seto’s, glowering and shaking. The dull light of the orchid revealed a single tear streak.

“I will make a decision at a later date,” Seto said. “This has gone on long enough. As for now, the rest of you are dismissed for the evening. Return to your apartments and think over your own errors. Kisara?”

“Yes.”

“Finish escorting Attendant Katsuya to the baths.”

Kisara did as she was told. The voices and bodies faded away. It wasn’t until they hit the baths and the doors slammed closed that Jounouchi tore the robe away, burying his hands in his hair and gripping hunks of it. Any words he attempted were half-formed and became deep, primal screeches. Kisara helped him strip away the underrobe and plucked the pins, and hands, from his hair.

“Stop, you’re not to blame here. This...this is my fault. I didn’t make a decision soon enough.”

Jounouchi wiped his nose with his wrist. “No, it ain’t. It’s mine. I did somethin’ stupid an’...an’ I dunno,” he slurred, the wine heavy on his tongue. “I dunno what ya guys were talkin’ ‘bout, bein’ rude. Bein’ a wife. None‘ve it. None’ve this makes sense.”

The last of the jewellery was laid aside. Down to his loins, Kisara took a pitcher of water and handed it off. “I don’t expect you to. Only Ishizu gets what it’s like to be foreign, but sometimes I wonder if she forgets others can be.”

“I ain’t foreign!” The words hung in the steam. Thickly, Jounouchi sniffed and doused himself in fragrant water, running a washcloth over himself. “I...I ain’t foreign. Ya don’t think that, do ya?”

“No.”

“Then why...”

“It’s complicated. I know that doesn’t answer it, but I have a feeling this is complicated and new for you, Attendant. It’s never easy adjusting. The harem is...never short of conflict and drama. I want you to focus on being happy, alright?”

“Easier said’n done.”

Kisara tucked a hair behind her ear. “I know. Come, the baths will calm you down. You and Buruaizu will be here alone for the evening.”

“...wonderful.”

Though Kisara wanted to hear the positivity in his voice, she didn’t. She said nothing in reply, only touched his shoulder gently and squeezed.

—

The baths consisted of a wide and shallow pond, tinted yellow-green. The entire surface was covered in orchids and their petals, and when he seeped into it, the orchids shimmered in response, bobbing off one another.

Kisara left Jounouchi alone to settle chest deep while sitting, inhaling the vapours. To an eased mind, one would have drifted off. Jounouchi’s eyes went heavy, but he never settled, and he palmed the orchids, waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting Attendant.

Waiting, always.

Waiting, forever.

No one came. He rested in the baths for almost an hour until Isono and pair of eunuchs came and collected him, helping him into a his robes. Quietly, he was escorted back to his apartment. He was acutely aware of how loudly his feet slapped against the pavement. As if he had never noticed before, although he had always been barefoot.

Everything swirled in his mind as he sobered.

He had been useless for the second time. His family’s honour and safety relied on him. But it relied on him being a wife, as Ishizu said. At the very end of things, he was a wife, and the torn robe—dress, he corrected—reminded him of that. He had yet to perform his duties adequately. For all he knew, his family was suffering for his misgivings. Shizuka was suffering. They would be homeless and begging. Maybe exiled. He just needed to perform, no matter how afraid he was.

Kaiba had looked so nice, too. Tonight he could have done it.

“Can...can I see Buruaizu?” Jounouchi asked Isono as stepped through the gate of his apartment. Honda approached from the porch. “I couldn’t really find the words earlier an’ I wanna try an’ defend myself.”

“You’ve said enough, Attendant, I assure you,” Isono said softly.

“Oh.”

“Until a decision has been reached, Buruaizu’s advises you to stay in your quarters. The Empress has been made aware of this arrangement, and doesn’t expect you at morning greetings.”

Honda clenched his fists and jolted forward. “What, is he on house arrest or something?”

“No.”

“Then why does he gotta stay here?”

Isono held out his hand. A tepid expression rippled on his face, and he lifted his glasses up onto his head. “I’m only the messenger, but I would follow the advice. I can assure you the deliberation will be fastidious and quick.”

The answer didn’t satisfy Jounouchi. He was inches from Isono, ready to fight, to yell, before Honda pulled him back. The fury remained in the servant’s face, but he buckled down and pinched the loose skin on Jounouchi’s elbow

“The hell was that for?” Jounouchi asked, swatting Honda and rubbing his elbow.

“The old coot is on your side, believe it or not.”

“Yeah, right,” Jounouchi snorted.

They walked into the house, and Jounouchi began disrobing with Honda’s help. “I’m serious. Look, if he wanted to actually padlock your gate, he could have. He prolly was supposed to, but he didn’t. Take the mercy.”

Jounouchi rolled his eyes. “I’m glad I get _his_ mercy. He ain’t the one makin’ the decision.”

Strong hands gripped Jounouchi’s arms and shook him before the heel of Honda’s palm thunked Jounouchi on the forehead. “Are you dense? You know who that is, right?”

“Yeah. Kaiba’s like...personal attendant,” said Jounouchi. And then it clicked. If anyone had any sway over Kaiba, it would be the person who was at Kaiba’s side all day, everyday. “Oooooh. Okay, okay. I get it.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah.”

“Swear?”

“Swear, now lemme go,” Jounouchi said, squirming away. The realisation helped, but he was still tired. Overwhelmed. Distraught. It didn’t make the possibilities anymore comfortable, and he wandered to bed, not bothering to change into nightclothes.

—

Thousands of things were in Kaiba’s head at any given moment. He categorised them based on their pertinence and severity to the government, to the people, to the nobles, to his own household. Often, all of these things could cross together in a tangled web. It was easy to trip over a small detail and squash the person he meant to help the most. So of those thousands of things, in their varying lists, with their myriad of needs, he found himself particularly agitated at the minute matter sitting at the forefront.

For a week, he sat considering Jounouchi’s case.

His infuriating, blond gift. Or curse. Jounouchi was very much a curse at this moment, taking up Kaiba’s every thought, usually by force. The entire harem had come to him in their outcry. He had only consulted Kisara, Ishizu, and Anzu on the matter. Every one of them had a different story to tell. Emphatic, tragic, matter-of-fact. He appreciated each of the ladies for their insight, but in the end, there would be no pleasing everyone. But he wasn’t concerned for the others, only himself. As long as he closed the matter, he would be pleased.

In all his years, he had never seen such a minuscule problem become so huge. All over shoes. Shoes! Damned shoes.

His only reprieve from the gnawing thoughts was in the daily council of ministers. Happening just after the Empress’ morning greetings, they royal couple met and walked in between the long rows of ministers sitting at their writing desks, at least 50 all together. They ascended the throne to hear out any debates and news and make the appropriate calls, with the guidance of the ministers.

Kaiba attempted to hear them out; Kisara was less enthused, often speaking to her maid, Ai, or to Isono. It was all for show. If he wanted to disband the council meetings, he could. But it would be undoing generations of precedent. He would just deal with them and make his decisions regardless.

“...this delegation humbly requests bringing attention to the matters in Ne-Yah, of present,” one old man said, standing up from his desk. “It’s been reported there are border skirmishes.”

Another man, on the other side of the room, stood. “That is untrue. They are not skirmishes! There has been intel suggesting that Ne-Yah, maybe even its sister province Aw-Yah are receiving aid from these clans.”

“And why would they?” The first man asked. “They’re under our protection. We police the roads and mountains to stop the raids.”

“It is historically known that Ne-Yah has changed sides.”

“And who’s inciting this? Their magistrate?” The first man scoffed. “I hardly think so. Their loyalty is unshakable ever since we called for peace. They’re not choosing sides now. There are skirmishes now because of this peace. The mountain clans are restless; they see Ne-Yah as the nearest threat.”

“Then why have they not defended themselves? Or asked for aid? They are silently revolting against Domi as a whole. The magistrate does nothing! He doesn’t care, and he never has. None of that family has!” The second man picked up several different scrolls and walked them up to the stairs in front of the throne. “Reports of collusion with the border clans, sire.”

Isono took the writings to Kaiba, who skimmed them.

“We need to send aid,” the first man emphasised. “If there are foul thoughts, this’ll stop them.”

“No! We drag that dog of a magistrate here and demand he explain himself. First, he gives empty coffers, and then he bargains with border clans? Does he wish for more war?” The second man said. “Sire, please call Magistrate Jounouchi to the Capital. Make him explain himself.”

Jounouchi’s name made Kaiba’s ears sizzle. “That’s enough,” Kaiba said. “We table this topic for later discussion. Move on.”

The ministers settled themselves again, and started something else, battling amongst themselves. He had drifted off, occasionally reading the testimonies brought to him, though it only sickened him more. As if he hadn’t dealt with Jounouchi enough this week. He was further sickened by the summer heat, coming hard and fast. Even light robes did little to alleviate him, and it was worse for Kisara. She hadn’t been comfortable since summer began. She slumped at the delegations, sipping on a chilled bowl of coffee, calling it bitter and unsettling.

“Rest, my Queen,” Kaiba suggested.

“I’m fine.”

Kaiba held her hand. “You seem unwell.”

“A touch. My stomach bothers me. Nothing serious, just the heat,” Kisara said.

“Go then. TeaTea’s been asking for you, anyways.”

“Mm. I have one guess as to why. I’ll just be coming back to talk to you,” Kisara said.

Kaiba sighed. “I’m sure.”

Kisara left nonetheless, the ministers standing to see her out. The delegations quickly started up again. His attention was lost as they debated for the thousandth time over proper tax allocation. They would submit their requests and queries. Instead, he motioned for Isono to come closer.

“Sire?”

“We need to handle Jounouchi,” he said.

“I’ll have him brought to the Capital, post haste.”

“Not that one,” Kaiba said. He slid his outer robe off, and a maid stepped closer with the fan. “Attendant Jounouchi. He’s causing too much trouble with the harem.”

“Ah, yes,” Isono took the fan and dismissed the maid. “Lady Miho is still camped outside your study. I tell her you’re busy, but she is rather insistent on serving you those cakes. I have half a mind to take them and split them amongst the eunuchs. They would be happy to have a treat like that. Win-win.”

Kaiba chuckled. “You should consider it.”

“Their begging isn’t what bothers you, is it, sire?” said Isono, rhetorical. He had a way of getting right into Kaiba’s head. They had been together since he was a child. It was his job to know what Kaiba wanted before he wanted it. “Whatever you end up deciding, Attendant Katsuya will be stigmatised.”

“Stigmatised.”

“Yes. However, I don’t think his social ineptitude is particularly a crime. And...I can see how he’d be uncomfortable.”

“Perhaps. Has he always been barefoot?” Kaiba asked.

“I’m not sure. There’s more ‘yeas’ than ‘nays’.”

That was the key issue. But at the end of the day, whether it was once or always, he needed to have something done. The false house arrest was partial assuagement. Some wanted worse, such as Ishizu’s suggestion. And then there was the matter of Jounouchi himself, who was acting only out of his own discomfort at best and, at worst, being an infuriating idiot.

“I need something that will solve his stigma while punishing him,” Kaiba said after a little thought. “There’s a solution for one, but the other part is...annoying. The stigma only comes from my failure to perform with him, which is frustrating. He’s not ready, and I not about to force his hand, but he’s...he’s impossible.”

“Well, you were new once too, sire.”

Kaiba’s head dropped. Wind gently blew against his chapped skin. “I suppose. But he’s not exactly the shy sort, clearly.”

“Being shy is natural. Unlike yourself, there’s a chance that the Attendant is just as virginal as any other new concubine,” Isono said, his voice lowering considerably. “Doubly so to a situation such as this. I think the easiest way to rectify his nervousness would be for Fugata and I to introduce him to his sexual freedom in the same way we introduced it to you.”

Kaiba’s eyes closed, unsure, but he couldn’t help but grin. “A bold suggestion.”

“It only seems fair.”

“Did you two want to—?”

“Your Imperial Majesty!” A crier shouted. “The delegation from Kul has arrived!”

A deep timbered voice, dotted with the lyrical tone of the Kul, drew Kaiba from his conversation. “Please accept the humblest apologies on behalf of Pharaoh Atem, lord of Upper and Lower Kul. We did not wish to be this late.”

Kaiba stood, pushing the bead curtain aside. Half-a-dozen tanned, hooded travellers, their robes still dust-laden, stood at the foot of the stairs. A golden box on a plinth laid in the centre of them.

“Your apologies are accepted,” Isono said, stepping ahead of Kaiba. “We welcome you to the court of Domi, emissary. To what do we owe this sudden intrusion? You’re not our normal ambassador.”

One of the men stepped ahead and pulled his hood off. He had long brown hair, cut neat across his brow. His eyes heavily outlined in a fanciful way. His arm cross his chest, touching the opposite shoulder, and he bowed deeply at the waist. “I am Mahad, one of the Pharaoh’s advisers. I have come with the second demanded item from our treaty.”

Kaiba descended, approaching the box as the four sets of hands slid back the lid. It fell heavily onto the floor. Inside, rested on a puffy cushion, was a golden rod. It’s head bore the same eye as Ishizu’s necklace.

Kaiba reached out, but was stopped by Mahad. “I would not.”

“Why?”

“These items are volatile, this one especially. It is best left as it is.”

Kaiba’s eyes narrowed. “I see. Volatile how?”

“We humbly request rest first, Your Imperial Majesty. After, our handler will explain the intricate details of it to you, perhaps tomorrow when we are better suited to be before your elegance.” Mahad bowed again. Out of the six, one of them had to be the handler, though they were all the same in their robes and hoods.

“Very well. Isono, have rooms prepared for our guests,” Kaiba said, turning away. “Inform Consort Ishizu of their arrival.”

“Yes, sire.”

“And when you’re done, I need you to deliver a message to Attendant Katsuya for me,” Kaiba added.

Isono smiled. “Very well, sir.”

—

For days, Jounouchi lazed. Mostly sleeping, until his schedule was out of order and Honda were up in the middle of the night. He couldn’t get the guards to talk, and he only heard news when Honda came back with food. Even then, it was scant. “Still deliberating,” he would say.

They played cards, made up games, fiddled with instruments.

As if in protest, Jounouchi hung around in night clothes and loins. The heat made it reasonable enough. Only one shipment of ice was given to him, and it melted by the second day.

He awoke midday, a week or so after, to the smell of orchid and magnolia. Lifting the pillow, he sighed at the sorry state of his withered, barely there magnolia petal. The whole orchid flower was going fast.

“‘Ey, Honda?” Jounouchi asked. The servant grunted. “We got a heavy book or somethin’’?” 

“What for?”

“Jus’...somethin’ I wanna use it for.”

Honda searched and came back with a thick book. With haste, Jounouchi pressed the flowers onto the page, closed it, and set it on his writing desk under a silver phoenix paperweight.

Jounouchi returned to Honda, lounging on the couch, and sat next to him. He didn’t talk, just took up plucking at the long-necked lute while Honda dozed. In his lonely delirium, he thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He ignored it. A minute later, three or four eunuchs barged into his room and began rifling through everything.

“Hey! Hey! Oi! What the hell, guys?”

One eunuch stood in front of Jounouchi and ordered: “Step outside, Attendant.”

He had no choice. They forced him out and held him there. This was it, he was about to die over shoes. It grew more apparent as the other eunuchs, still ransacking his apartment and storehouse, carried out multiple pairs of shoes and stockings. They piled them in the centre of the courtyard, and once they were done, the four gathered behind the pile while one drizzled a viscous liquid onto it.

Isono came into view from behind. “Kneel to receive the royal edict, Serving Attendant Katsuya.”

Warily, Jounouchi knelt. Isono unfurled a scroll.

“By issue of His Imperial Majesty, henceforth, Serving Attendant Katsuya of Eastern Lakeside will no longer be permitted to wear any foot covering, whether it be for requirement, whim, or need. He is also required to make this apparent to those around him, as it is now his privilege, and a privilege he must bear in mind at all times. End edict.” Isono closed the scroll and held his hand out towards the pile. “As a show of understanding, and perhaps not to tempt you, Attendant.”

A eunuch struck a match and tossed it onto the pile of shoes. Soon consumed, it became a bonfire of colour as the fabrics and flecked gemstones shone in the licking flames. Jounouchi sat unmoved, enraptured. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Isono handed the scroll to Jounouchi. “Now, come with me, Attendant. Buruaizu wishes to see you this evening, and there’s...plenty of work to be done beforehand.”

Jounouchi gulped and followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there’s still a lot going on! Lol, and a few hidden details if you pay close attention! 
> 
> Tell me what you think!


	7. Year 1, Summer, Night 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was writing this one....and I almost posted a 12k chapter because I wrote so much for the next parts. 
> 
> This will officially be the first time I’ve written ahead, my dear readers, at least on my own. So there will be a chapter in the near(ish) future after this one. But, enjoy!

“If you could, Attendant, please dip the pestle in honey and, with only your mouth, clean all of it off in one lick,” said Isono.

Jounouchi blinked. The pestle sat beside a small mortar of fresh honey, the honeycomb delicately to the side. A similar set-up was mirror across from him. Isono and Fugata, the plain-faced left hand (as Jounouchi deigned him) sat shoulder to shoulder, quietly assessing him as he reached for the pestle.

Jounouchi paused. “Why?”

“A demonstration,” Isono said. “It will be clearer once you try.”

So Jounouchi did. He stuck the smooth, porcelain pestle in his mouth and attempted to peel the thick, fresh honey off. It gummed to the roof of his mouth and frothed at the corners of his lips. A few licks did nothing to remove it, and he popped the pestle out, unsurprised to find it still covered with streaks of spit-covered honey. He went to lick it again.

Isono stuck his hand out. “That’s enough, Attendant.”

“Eh?”

“Once is all you get. Remember how I said this was a demonstration?” Isono pulled his own tray closer, and Fugata swirled it through the honey, passing it over. “Watch me, and see if it helps you.”

Nothing was going to help, because Jounouchi still didn’t know why he had been brought to the plain little room, filled with thick sandalwood incense, other the vague statement of ‘plenty of work to be done’. This didn’t look like work. It felt like a challenge, though it was one that Jounouchi felt was more like peeping into the brothel the next village over, getting up on his tip-toes and shoving Hirutani out of the way to get a good look at the local madam, who was also the town’s seer, while she worked her “magick with her mouth” as she used to say. It could have been the way that Fugata took deep drags from his pipe while watching Isono seamlessly, with one slow pull, take the honey off the pestle, that made him think that.

“Any thoughts, Attendant?” Isono asked.

“Not...really.”

“Questions, then?”

A million. But none that he could articulate while Fugata cleaned the pestle off and laid it back down. “What does this gotta do with Buruaizu? Ya said he wanted t’ see me tonight so, what...is this a lesson in...?”

“Something like that,” Fugata replied. “It’s come to our attention that you haven’t been educated in how to satisfy His Majesty.”

Jounouchi glanced to the spit-covered pestle, his jaw tightening as he connected the dots. Behind him, Honda stifled back shorts and hisses of laughter. “O-oh, no, it’s a’right, I can figure that part out, it’s jus’,” his ears burned. This was horrifying. Two middle-aged men were about to instruct him on how to properly pleasure another man. And not just any man. Kaiba. And that only sprouted more questions. “I got this, guys, I promise. It’ll take a sec, but I ain’t gonna chicken out or nothin’. I got surprised last time an’...an’ I don’t wanna...”

Isono softened. “It’s alright, Attendant. Everyone has a first time; we’re just here to make it easier. There’s a certain way things are meant to be done, even in the instance of a male consort, which you never had a chance to learn. We’re here to teach you as much as we can.”

Another snort from Honda.

Jounouchi’s waved the pestle at him. “Shut up, ya ass. You ain’t helpin’ me here!”

“Sorry, Jou,” Honda said, hands waved in surrender. “I don’t mean it.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Letting out a tough breath, Jounouchi squeezed the pestle and turned back to the pair. As bad as this was, it could have been worse. He could have lived the rest of his life trapped in his apartment under ‘arrest’, until he either died or tried to escape. This way, he was fulfilling the dozens of angry, confusing, wet dreams he’d had. He wouldn’t continue to be a failure—Jounouchi Katsuya didn’t settle for failure. “Let’s do it, then. Teach me everything.”

“Wonderful, clean the pestle and we’ll try again.”

Jounouchi did. And again. And again. Until his tongue was sugared and his stomach was full without eating a thing. Isono rattled details through his attempts. “When you lay with Buruaizu, you will always take the side closest to the door. Mind your eyes and tongue unless he tells you otherwise. There are three things you are capable of doing for His Majesty. For maximum pleasure, we suggest the so-called Honey Method,” and Isono poised his hand to the mortar, “in order to open up the evening. This may, perhaps, be the only thing necessary, though you will always allow for His Majesty to lead. Once he’s been satisfied, you’ll turn onto your side and he’ll lay on his back, as only His Majesty can face the Heavens. Does all this make sense, Attendant?”

Jounouchi couldn’t say he knew how any of this worked, even after it had been dryly explained. “Yeah, I guess,” he muttered. 

“Good.” Isono nodded. “This particular technique of the three comes from texts from the Warring Dynasties. Some kings kept male consorts for retaliation, but most were for comfort or familiarity. There are two instances of male consorts this dynasty—the second emperor had several Lords whom he kept til death, and the seventh emperor was well scrutinised for Noble Consort Mako, who became the de facto co-ruler—,”

“Male empress,” Fugata interjected.

“Yes; depending on the historian,” Isono agreed. “Despite some takes, there’s no direction contention from the Chosen Three in regards to the Son of Heaven’s behaviour or choices in partner. He’s all-knowing that way, though you’ll have to accept that since you can’t produce heirs, you won’t be priority. In fact, it may also benefit you to read Noble Consort Mako’s censored diaries, as well as poems from the old masters of the Warring Dynasties on this subject. Do you know Old Tongue?”

“Nope.”

“Ah, well...”

“We could recite them,” Fugata said.

“Indeed, we could.”

Jounouchi grunted, half-agreeing, half-frustrated. He continued on with the pestle, continually disappointed with his performance while he half-listened.

Without hesitation, Fugata recited the poems while Isono delved deep into a history of love and intimacy within the Dragon Palace. The longer Jounouchi sat, listening and attempting to rake honey from a pestle, the more his eyes burned from the incense and pipe smoke. He didn’t know when Honda had stopped laughing at this impromptu history lesson, maybe when he realised he was stuck there, too. Still, Jounouchi looked to his friend as he languished in repeated failure, and got a gentle nod in return. Honda had his back, at least.

“This is impossible!” Jounouchi finally said, throwing down the pestle. “And stupid. I won’t fail tonight! I don’t know how I won’t, but whatever happens is gonna be different in there.”

“Relax, Attendant. Try using only your lips and tongue. Make a suction and pull slowly.”

Jounouchi huffed, scooping up the last of the honey. He didn’t want any more honey for the rest of his life. Popping it in his mouth, Jounouchi used the method, sure that he had already attempted it. He made sure not to use his teeth, imagining how irritating teeth would be on his own privates, and was surprised when it came out mostly clean.

“Very nice.”

“Thanks,” he murmured. As thankful as praise for suckling honey could be. He didn’t fail. That was a plus. “If that’s all ya needed, I’ll get goin’ an’....prepare t’ see His Majesty.”

Fugata produced several pillows and positioned them in the middle of the room. “A few more lessons are in order,” he said and pointed to the pillows, motioning for Jounouchi to lay down. Honda was summoned as well, much to Jounouchi’s curiosity, though they didn’t say why. They still sat to the side, and explained to him that this was practice in relaxing and finding comfort in his body and its flexibility.

“Place your leg on your servant’s shoulder,” Isono instructed.

Jounouchi, having laid down and instantly prostrated himself wide, immediately closed his legs and propped up. “Do what now?”

“Relax. It’s just demonstration.”

Jounouchi eyed Honda, suddenly feeling worse for his friend. They barely talked about these sorts of private, sexual things; it wasn’t important for their friendship. As far as he knew, Honda had been with someone, though that could have just been a daydream or his imagination. There was no need to include Honda into these new and unknown proclivities. Women were confusing enough. He still hadn’t figured them out, and being in the harem wasn’t helping.

Once his heel was hooked into Honda’s shoulder, Isono continued: “In the instance that the Honey Method is not used, you’ll lay on your back, much like this, with your knees bent to a point and eased apart. You were rather close before, actually. It allows for you to relax and feel at ease. From there, fornication from behind will begin. His Majesty has his own protocols for his pleasure, of course. You don’t need to know them. While this happens, don’t look him in eye. As you two reach climax, His Majesty must finish first, even if this means holding back. It’s not as terrible as it seems. This method is used for maximum pleasure for you both.

“In the instance that neither of these are chosen, Ten Happy Reasons can be implemented,” Isono waggled his fingers. “You can initiate this, or he might. Your hands or fingers can be very useful, and, to save you much embarrassment, I assume you know how these things work, Attendant.”

Both Jounouchi and Honda looked at one another, brows raising. In the midst of the odd position they were both in, it was a small reprieve to chuckle. The laughter infected Isono and Fugata as well, though it was quickly buttoned down.

Fugata tapped out ashes from the pipe. “Close your eyes, Attendant. Relax. Find your centre and breathe.”

Jounouchi’s eyes closed. “It’s hard t’ breathe on my back.”

Honda snorted. “Yeah, no kidding. Your  leg’s so heavy that I’m having trouble breathing.”

“Shut it. You aren’t helpin’ me find my centre.”

“Too bad, I already found mine.”

Groaning, Jounouchi writhed around, just to be difficult. “Don’t go gettin’ any ideas here. This is weird enough,” he said. They both ended up on the floor as Jounouchi writhed too much, and were reprimanded until they were back in position.

It got quiet. Nightjars cawed far in the distance. Jounouchi laid for a long while, enjoying the sound, evening his breathing and imagining himself back in his home village, slouched at the dining table, waiting for supper to be served. Shizuka would show off an ink painting and continue reciting an epic tale of pheasant and dragon warriors. She almost knew it by heart.

“Its nightfall,” Isono said, stirring Jounouchi from his half-slumber. “You’d better go. It’s best not to leave Buruaizu waiting.”

Honda helped Jounouchi stir awake and find his footing from his aching thigh. “Sorry,” he muttered, holding his breath as they walked out with the pair of advisors in tow.

“Hey.” Honda clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m here for ya no matter how embarrassing this stuff gets, okay?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jounouchi nodded. “Thanks.”

—

It was Ishizu’s duty, both as consort and as a lady from Kul, to meet the delegation and its emissary every time it arrived to the Dragon Palace. This particular group’s arrival made her uneasy. They came with more treasures from the treaty, treasures that Kaiba had been waiting almost two years for, and she knew he wasn’t a patient man. She couldn’t count how many times he considered the delays an insult. “A breach of the treaty,” he’d said, as though he was the victor in it all.

Only when Kul had convinced the southern province, Elna, to join their side during the tumultuous period between Gozaburo’s death and Kaiba’s ascension did the topic of peace come up. In Kul, the rumour had been that Gozaburo had been killed on the battlefield, along with one of his five Great Generals, while maintaining the front. The rumour furthered that their bodies were desecrated, and there was no coffin body brought back to inter in the Imperial Tombs. But Ishizu knew better.

Gozaburo wasn’t the sort of man that stood on the battlefield. She’d heard Kaiba say as much, though he never elaborated on the rumours that floated amongst Kul’s elite. He became perceptibly quiet and changed topics, insisting the peace was made to help both countries rebuild and find themselves again, maybe even become allies. None of this changed his attitude of being victor and demanding tithes in exchange for Kul keeping Elna as theirs. Ishizu hadn’t decided if Kaiba was bitter, or gracious, in his defeat.

Either way, he never made small talk with the delegations out of the throne room. That was her job, and she suspected she was helping him, in the least, to uphold rumours and, at the worst, hiding darker secrets regarding Gozaburo’s sudden death and his very quick ascension onto the Dragon Throne.

Those details, and her unease, disappeared as soon as she approached the delegation. The smell of sands and seas fell off them in little wisps, and for a second, she thought she was home.

Once close enough, her hands covered her mouth, surprised to find Atem’s advisor anywhere near Domi. “Mahad?”

“Lady Ishtar.” Mahad bowed, and continued in their tongue: “It’s good to see you’re doing well.”

“I am. Set treats me very kindly.”

“That’s a relief,” said Mahad. “The Pharaoh asked me to bring you something to lighten your mood.”

“My mood?” Ishizu canted her head. Right now, there were butterflies in her stomach, and her tongue, unable to get out words fast enough. There was something wonderful about speaking to more than her dowry maid in her mother tongue. She laughed, unprovoked, before asking: “Why would he have to worry about my mood?”

“From your letters,” Mahad replied. “He says that they’ve been morose ever since you told him about the misfortune with your son.”

Ishizu’s hand rested on her belly. “I’m perfectly fine, but I appreciate his concern. You can tell him that I am confident there will be good news in the future. Set and I have spent plenty of time together, and I’ve felt...off as of late.”

“That’s wonderful.”

A small grunt came from one of the cloaked figures. Ishizu scanned them, and approached one in the centre, throwing back the hood without hesitation. Beneath it, a mop of disheveled, blond hair sprung out from beneath. Her heart fluttered, and she threw her arms around the short man.

“Marik!”

“Ack! Sister...too tight.”

“Never,” Ishizu said. She clung to Marik even as he tried to push her away. “I’ve missed you so much, little brother.”

“Yeah, yeah...” Despite Marik’s annoyance, the soft pats on her back told her that he missed her, too. “Now stop it, you’re embarrassing.”

“I’m your sister, I’m allowed to be embarrassing,” Ishizu said, finally letting him go. She still brushed hairs out of his face, tucking them behind his ear to get a better look at how full his face had become in two years. It was almost painful how adult he’d become in that time. His eyes were smaller, a little darker, but nevertheless full of mischief and delight. “You’ve gotten so tall. I think you may end up taller than Rishid.”

“Hmph, as if.”

“It could happen.”

Marik crossed his arm over his chest. “You’re still being embarrassing in front of the others,” he muttered, eyeing the other figures and Mahad, all holding back laughter.

“Come, walk around the courtyard with me, then,” she said, and took off without seeing if Marik followed. She knew he would.

Begrudgingly, Marik caught up with her, finding his stride beside her. His twiggy limbs had become fuller, though he was still growing. His legs were disproportionate to the rest of him. He ended up swaggering to compensate.

“Have you been well?” Ishizu asked.

“I suppose,” replied Marik. “It’s been very busy back home.”

“Mm, I can imagine. The Pharaoh mentioned that there was serious flooding last winter. The tunnels must have been damaged,” she said, and she shuddered to think of it.

How many days had she spent wandering the underground tunnels, awestruck at the impressive monoliths and extensive carved tablets marking the tombs of the old pharaohs. They may as well have been her home, and for the most part, they were. The Ishtar estate laid overtop of the vast network of interconnected tunnels and tombs on the outskirts of Kul’s capital. The family itself had been keepers of the tombs and temples for as long as Kul had been ruled, and were treated as an arm of the royal family. Sometimes, she considered Atem a brother. She saw him as often.

“They were. There’s mud and muck everywhere. Some of the statues moved around or broke. Father’s been relentless in trying to fix and catalogue everything. We haven’t been topside for weeks at a time,” said Marik. He sighed. “I had asked to come months ago, when we found out about my nephew but...Father didn’t allow it.”

“Duty comes first.”

“Family comes first!” Marik roared. “He didn’t even consider coming himself. Me and Rishid had to beg him. Only when Atem made him send me did he give in.”

Ishizu frowned and folded her hands at her waist. “I see. Well, I’m glad you’re here, nonetheless.”

“As am I,” he huffed.

“What troubles you, little brother?” Ishizu put her arm over his shoulder and hugged him close to her side. She sensed the worry in his voice; he’d never been so angry, and it certainly wasn’t at flooding or work. Perhaps the loss of her son, but there was more. “Hm? What is it on your mind. I’m here to listen.”

Marik looked off, sneering. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re lying to me.”

“So?”

Ishizu sighed. “Well, fine, you aren’t required to tell me now. But later, then. After you’ve settled in and gotten some good sleep in a real bed.” Not the stone slabs she knew he slept on down in the tunnels. “Was the Magi Pass blocked by rubble?”

“Soldiers.”

Ishizu hummed. “I see. Still tense from Elna, then?”

Marik shrugged. He kept his eyes forward, though she caught him gazing at the bowing maids, servants and Imperial Guards. There was so much more colour in Domi, especially within the Dragon Palace. He was a child wondered by magick for the first time. Somehow, he managed to keep his jaw off the floor.

“That’s good. It will mean that you have an excuse to stay longer, then,” she said, trying to tone down the excitement in her voice.

“You mean you’ll have more time to embarrass me.”

“Maybe, plus love you endlessly,” Ishizu chuckled. Her arm fell away from his shoulders. “Because I do love you, little brother.”

Marik muttered something inaudibly.

“What was that?” Ishizu asked, cupping her hand to her ear. “You’re mumbling again, I thought I broke you of that years ago.”

“I love you too, sister.”

Ishizu beamed and took his hand. “Good. Now come, you’re too thin and it’s almost dinner.”

Marik openly groaned, but didn’t attempt to writhe away, though he dragged his feet the entire way back to her apartments.

—

A sedan chair, hoisted by four eunuchs, took Jounouchi home, and he dressed quickly in yellow and vermillion over robes, forgoing any of the details underneath. He would do this quick and right.

As he was hurried out, he stopped at the book with the pressed flowers and laid his hand on the corner. He’d do this for his family.

No, he’d do it for Shizuka.

The sedan chair sped along paths he endlessly walked. He sat so high he could see over the walls of some of the apartments, eyeing the dead courtyards as well as the lively ones, with maids and eunuchs tidying up and serving meals. Eunuchs and servants alike bowed, moving to the side. All except for what he thought was Ishizu running by in a hurry, dragging someone else with her. Someone blond. He was nervous, imagining things. He focused ahead.

Soon, he crossed the bridge and was let down at the emperor’s chambers. The little tea lights glimmered in his peripheral, and he took a sharp breath as he hopped up the stairs and disappeared inside, sparing one look back at Honda who gave him a reassured smile and nod.

The inside was much warmer than before, and no maid greeted him, though two stood in front of the doors with their heads bowed. He stepped through an octagonal doorway, further into the maze of Kaiba’s chambers. It was empty.

Continuing on, he entered an antechamber. Sparsely furnished, it had a single lantern sat on a table in the middle of the room. Across from it, a censer spewed a sickly sweet musk. It was part of an alter offering different fruits and cured meats. A painting of a woman with blue eyes and chestnut hair fashioned with sapphire and diamond, and a young boy, no older than six or seven with short, blue-green hair, dressed like a smaller version of the emperor, crests and all, hung between two scrolls written in Old Tongue.

“You aren’t wearing shoes, pup.”

Jounouchi jumped and spun to Kaiba. “The scroll told me I can’t.”

“You can’t, but you enjoy disobeying me,” Kaiba said. He walked out of the antechamber, and Jounouchi followed. “Though it would have been difficult.”

“Yeah, they burned all my shoes.”

“Good.”

Jounouchi stuck his tongue out. “Jokes on you, this makes me happy.”

“I figured it would,” Kaiba said haughtily. “But if it didn’t, I don’t really care. You’re getting it either way.”

“So it’s a gift?”

Kaiba lead him through several doors before answering, “If you see it as that.”

“I mean, it is, ain’t it? Ya gave me the ability t’ not wear shoes an’ no one else will care about it anymore. That’s a damn nice gift, if ya ask me.” Jounouchi walked beside Kaiba, unsure if he should have stayed back a length or not. “Not havin’ to listen to everyone gossip is pretty nice.”

“Hn.”

They were back in the bedroom before Jounouchi knew it, and he was face to face with Kaiba, feeling his legs and bowels trembled. Relaxing earlier hadn’t helped. He was still alone with Kaiba.

“Undress me, puppy,” Kaiba commanded, and he held out his arm.

Filling the space between them, Jounouchi pressed his fingertips to Kaiba’s chest, tracing down the folded collar of his robe before yanking at the ties of his sash. It was unwound and laid on the table. He wore two thin layers; a silk layer with embroidered crests and clouds, and a very thin cotton underlay with short sleeves, closed by a cord. As Jounouchi eased it off, his knuckles skimmed Kaiba’s cool skin, and he traced the collarbone with his thumb before dropping the robe to the floor.

“The pants, too,” Kaiba said.

He sat on the bed and crossed one leg over the other, offering his boot. A hint, Jounouchi thought. Kaiba thought he was stupid—maybe he was. Stupid and confused.

He knelt down beside Kaiba and pulled off the boot expecting to be kicked for staring at him and licking his lips. Not because he wanted this, no. This was all confusing. Anger and fear clashed in his head. He shouldn’t have been reacting to the languid divots in Kaiba’s ribs or the sharp curve of his shoulders while he propped himself up. In fact, he would have been more accepting of the idea that Kaiba busted his mouth open with the toe of the boot. At least then he knew how to react. He would fight Kaiba, emperor or not.

Setting aside the boots, Jounouchi plotted his next move, unsure how to remove pants while Kaiba sat.

A cup of wine was offered to him.

“I ain’t scared.”

“I don’t recall asking,” Kaiba replied. “Drink up.”

Jounouchi grabbed for the wine, but was denied. A crooked finger egged him closer. His knees hit the bed, and he stretched, reaching for the cup and falling forward onto the bed as Kaiba swiftly scooted away. “Hey, I’ll drink it. I ain’t afraid.”

Kaiba leaned beside him and put the rim of the cup to Jounouchi’s lips. It dug in, and the liquid poured down his chin. Jounouchi opened his mouth and guided the cup with his hand. Kaiba swatted it away, and tilted the cup until it was drained.

“Now, the pants,” Kaiba said.

With them both on the bed, Jounouchi got the idea more. He undid the fastens and took off Kaiba’s pants, tracing down his lithe legs. Wine and his arousal swirled, and he bunched the pants over his lap, not breathing or moving. He focused on the path of dark hair that traced from Kaiba’s navel into his loins.

Lurching forward, Kaiba’s hands swept under Jounouchi’s robes and knocked every layer down in one move. They slid down his elbows and pooled at his waist. Hands cupped his hips and eased the lower folds apart, easing the tension of the sash until they unravelled into a mess below him.

Satin lips skimmed Jounouchi’s neck, nipping at the vein. “Did they educate you on how this works?”

“Y-yeah...”

“Good. Turn around, puppy.”

Warmth pooled deep in Jounouchi’s loins as Kaiba’s hand traced the tender, so tender spaces where his legs met his hips. Bumps riddled his skin. The same delicate, sensual touch that haunted his dreams. Air hit his erection. Fingers danced along it, though this time he even his breathing and continued to look over Kaiba, longing and wanting.

He rocked forward and cupped Kaiba’s head, kissing him fast, almost missing and forcing himself to try again, and again, until they lined up. “Puppy,” escaped between them, snarled.

“Attendant,” Jounouchi corrected.

Kaiba pinned Jounouchi to the bed. “Right now, you’re my puppy. Only mine, and only I’m allowed to touch you like this. You’re my pet to worship.”

Worship. The hands worshipped the dips and folds and sinews of his body, basking him in heat, in light. No part went untouched. As soon as Kaiba’s hand glided in the soft spot between his behind and his erection, he moaned. The pad of a thumb worked that spot in oblongs. Jounouchi’s legs twitched, his body arched upwards.

“Y-you...that...”

Lips crushed his. The sweet taste of blueberries invaded his senses. There was nothing but him and Kaiba. The more he was touched, the more he sweat, and the further his head floated away from Earth. They embraced on a cloud, lofty and weightless.

A finger slid into his hole. Thin, cold. He threw his head back and whine. Instinctually, he tightened and held his breath, but eventually let it go. Relax, be calm. Find your centre. As it writhed inside him, he settled to soft, drawn out pants. It was a weird pain. It didn’t hurt, but his brain said it did while sending pulses of electricity slithering up his spine. His legs turned gelatinous. He held back a short scream as the digit poked and stroked deep inside him. His legs clenched shut, sticky warmth spraying between his thighs. The finger exited, and Jounouchi caught his breath, blinking the spots from his vision. He swallowed.

“Was that the...gift...?”

Kaiba snorted. “Not quite. But you enjoyed yourself.”

Listless, Jounouchi sat up. The ejaculate coated his skin, and he shook his head. He was so dead. “I didn’t mean too, honest! I know that you’re supposed t’ go first. They told me, but I—,”

A finger covered his lips, followed by a deep, suckling kiss.

Resting his forehead against Jounouchi’s, Kaiba whispered, “Turn around.”

“A’right...” Jounouchi did so. His hands landed everywhere, trying to find purchase as Kaiba leaned him forward. The hands, now hot as coals, pinched his hips and opened his thighs further. He had seen Kaiba’s privates. He hadn’t went around comparing other men’s, it hadn’t been a habit, so he couldn’t say if it was good or bad. It looked impressive; it felt impressive as it slipped inside him, poking as if exploring, leaving him shorter on breath the deeper and deeper it went.

The same electric, pain but not pain, twisted in his body. So this was pleasure. Pure, carnal pleasure, where the threshold of pain was alluring, almost. The friction of the back and forth, dotting his vision and making tears leak out his eyes; the hands cradling his stomach so tender that he bit his lip; the lips brazing so soft against his shoulder and the back of his neck that he shuddered. It all culminated to a white-hot, ecstatic episode where his pain and pleasure were one and the same. It wasn’t easy. He couldn’t say he fully liked it. It was unique, eye-opening, and frazzled every nerve until he was paralysed in the warmth and wonder of a feeling so unEarthly that thoughts and words were guttural moans and gentle whimpers until his tongue swelled in his mouth.

A hard, final jab made him sit at attention, and he knew it was over. His throbbing body, and Kaiba’s great pressure pooling inside him told him so. When Kaiba exited, his entire body tightened and went as heavy as a boulder. He swayed, and Kaiba caught him.

He was guided to the bed. True pain finally registered as he untensed. He let it consume him, but didn’t complain. The pleasure from before outweighed it, tenfold.

Kaiba flicked tears from his cheek. “You’re so emotional.”

“Am not.”

“No? You bit through your lip.” Kaiba’s thumb touched the sore spot and wiped up the trickle of blood and spittle. “So yes, you are emotional. And ridiculous; you need a doctor.”

“I’m a’right.” Kaiba went to leave, but Jounouchi grabbed his arm. He didn’t know why—it felt strange for Kaiba to leave. When Kaiba turned back, he let go, his heart in his throat. “I’m a’right, seriously.”

Kaiba arched a brow and smirked. He pushed Jounouchi into his chest. They laid down together, and Jounouchi drifted off while facing Kaiba, curled up close to his side.

—

_The water licked Jounouchi’s heels. He stood on the shoreline, all of his progress towards the city, and its outer wall, lost. Now, there wasn’t even a shining red light to guide his way._

You return _, the sky said._ You walk wounded

_Jounouchi didn’t know what it meant. He walked, regardless. His feet didn’t ache anymore, but his back and thighs throbbed. That was fine; he had to find the wall, again, get back on track._

_“Is the city still here?”_

Somewhere _, the sky replied._

_Ever the helpful voice. Jounouchi plowed ahead, heedless of the thickening miasma and the unknown. Whatever reason he was sent here, night after night, he would find. The tower would tell him. He would find sky, too, wherever it was calling to him from. There was no way it was in his head._

_The wall came into view again. He smiled, sprinting towards it._

_It was a short sprint. A creature scuttled in front of him, stopping him. It’s long, scaly body curled for further than his eyes could see. It was black as ink, and just as shimmery. Large, pointed wings sprouted from its back. The miasma flowed from its maw, pluming out its nostrils._

_A dragon._

—

Jounouchi’s eyes snapped open. His heart raced, realising he wasn’t in his room, before remembering he had spent the night with Kaiba.

The space beside him was empty, the sheets ruffled where a body had been. He reached out, a twinge of soreness rippling through his back and shoulders. He would have been fine to stay in bed all day, to think over exactly what had happened.

He did it.

He had performed his duty as the emperor’s concubine. Finally. The twisted knot in his stomach he got while thinking about his family and their fate eased. Still, he hadn’t gotten to plead their case. Kaiba, and his sensual touches, had left him at a loss for words. Later, when his muscles, and his thoughts, were a little less tangled.

Groaning, he rolled off the bed.

A maid appeared next to him. She offered a bowl of perfumed water. Jounouchi eyed it warily. “It’s to wash off,” Kaiba said. He drifted in from another room, fully dressed in black and gold. “You’re still a mess from last night.”

“I gotta go home and get dressed for morning greetin’s. I’ll wash there.” 

“No, you don’t,” Kaiba replied.

“I’m gonna get in trouble. Consort Ishizu’s gonna make me kneel the whole time,” Jounouchi said. He’d been late more than once, and kneeling ‘to repent’ had been his punishment.

“Tell me, who has more power, me or the witch?”

Jounouchi blinked. Witch. “You.”

“How about me and the Empress?”

“I—I dunno.” Jounouchi had never thought about it before. He obeyed them both as some supreme authority, and had sat in their presence all the same. Though with Kaiba, his stomach did flips, though sometimes, he felt at ease. As though he would have met Kaiba in his village, just another arrogant teen to run around with. “You guys are pretty even to me.”

“Mm.”

Jounouchi’s licked where the bite on his lip. “Wrong answer?”

“Is it?”

“I dunno.” Jounouchi shrugged. “You’re the one askin’.”

“If I told you that you didn’t have to go to morning greetings, you wouldn’t have to go,” Kaiba said. He shooed the maid away, taking the bowl and stood in front of Jounouchi. “Not that you have to go today, anyways. The Empress says that it’s too hot, and she doesn’t feel well.”

“Is she gonna be alright?”

Kaiba dabbed the cloth against Jounouchi’s chin. It went pink. “Eventually. Now wash off, puppy. You smell,” he ordered, and he tossed the cloth into the bowl, dropping it into Jounouchi’s hands. “You’re going to be sore, and it’s going to be hard to walk. You can stay here if you’re feeling needy; if not, a sedan chair will take you back to Eastern Lakeside. Either way, I won’t be back until late.”

Jounouchi nodded. “Did ya find the gift?”

Deep blue eyes considered Jounouchi’s form, his nudeness, before Kaiba turned away. “No. But you were glowing,” he said, and left.

Wearily, Jounouchi cleaned off and pulled on his robes. He almost fell when he stood up, the blood rushing to his head. Walking wasn’t any better. Every step twinged in his muscles, especially in his back and behind. It took him several minutes to get to the front door, mentally preparing himself for the stairs. As painful as it was, it was a good pain. A pleasant, exciting pain that, as he closed his eyes, reminded him of the licentious touches fluttering across his skin. Being touched was beautiful. Scary, but beautiful.

Honda startled awake, grabbing a small basket beside him, and helped Jounouchi stumbled down the stairs. “Woah, Jou, are you alright? Your mouth’s all...”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s...nothin’. I did it to myself,” Jounouchi said. He rubbed lightly at the bruising. It hurt like hell, but he’d ignore it. He changed subject quickly. “What’s in the basket?”

“Oh...Lady Miho was passing by, and she said that Consort Ishizu was busy, so she gave me the cakes instead.”

“Huh, weird.”

“I thought so, but I didn’t want to be rude. We talked for a bit and—,” he drawled off, clearing his throat and digging in the basket. “You want one?”

“Nah man, that’s all you,” Jounouchi said, not hiding his annoyance or indifference. Honda could be nice with Miho, but he was happy to ignore the girl.

Honda grimaced as he helped Jounouchi into the sedan chair. He slumped in it, taking pressure off his lower back. They sat in silence until they were near home, when Jounouchi said: “I...think that went alright. He didn’t kick me out, so I’d call that a win.”

“Definitely,” Honda agreed quickly. “You’re a fulfilled concubine now.”

“Fulfilled concubine,” Jounouchi repeated. “Does that mean somethin’ special happens, now?”

“Eh, not really.”

“It just...happens, then?”

Honda nodded. “Pretty much. Some do get promoted.”

“Eh, I’m not worried about that. I just thought it was s’pose t’ be more magical. I mean, it was, but aren’t there more stories about doing it for the first time? My father said it’s supposed t’ give you more knowledge or somethin’ like that. ‘Broaden your horizons, Jou; make ya see the world the way it’s supposed to be seen’!” Jounouchi said, miming his father.

Honda chuckled. “Do you feel smarter?”

“Nah, not really. Do I look smarter?”

“Pfff. What kind of question is that? It’s not like you popped out of there with a scholar’s cap on or anything.”

Jounouchi stuck out his tongue. “You’re such a load of help, ya know that?” He said, and Honda kept laughing. Overall, he couldn’t say he knew anything more than before—maybe about muscles he didn’t know he had. Sensations he didn’t know could compliment each other. But it could have been because it hadn’t been with a woman, like was the norm.

He knew that he felt good, and that was that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are more characters! xD and they finally did it, so that’s a plus isn’t it. 
> 
> So, in a lot of the details mentioned with Isono are based on some historical facts. A lot of...Imperial bedding, let’s call it, was very ritualistic for the mates of Emperors and Princes, at least from what I’ve read up on. So I just sort of...picked some details. Most of the time, with ladies it was for fertility. Certain positions, moves, observances, etc. 
> 
> Serving is certainly a good thing. In ancient times, some emperors could have hundreds or even thousands of concubines (though the maids and servant ladies counted so...the numbers are skewed. Any woman in a palace could be a consort), so reaching the bed was considered great, though it didn’t mean you were a favourite. Though Jou is definitely different.
> 
> Historically, some emperors did keep male concubine or lovers. Some were ministers or courtiers, others was an ancient practice that reared young men to adulthood. So much research O.o. Pulling from Greece and Rome on some of this too, lol. Whatever culture I’m building is a hobcobble. 
> 
> Anyways, tell me what you think!


	8. Year 1, Summer and Autumn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: long ass chapter. That said, enjoy XD

The emperor’s primary quarters were segregated between private and public affairs. In the back, where the concubines entered, was a foyer, an antechamber with an alter to the Chosen Three and ancestors, a private dining hall, a dressing room, and, of course, the spacious bedroom with two different beds. Both were made every night with the curtains drawn to surprise a would-be attacker. In the front of quarters was a wide reception hall which was a replica of throne room. It was smaller scale, set a covered dais and beaded curtain, as well as a modified Dragon Throne, with dragon’s heads meticulously etched with gold paint. A small table in front of the throne, wide enough to separate him from the armless chairs left for his guests: usually diplomats, emissaries, or ministers that he needed to speak with outside of the court. Champa incense burned in a censer to keep things calm, and the doors were left wide open, inviting, to let the wind blow chimes against the threshold. Most of Seto’s time as Buruaizu was spent; a mountain of scrolls and memorials, hand delivered at all times of the day, sat neatly organised on the tabletop.

He set his meeting with Mahad and the handler there instead of his study. Kisara sensed his trepidation—his excitement had been withered by mistrust as to why they wouldn’t allow him to touch the rod without instruction first, as if he was a child playing with fire.

“What’s on your mind?” Kisara finally prodded.

“That they’re going to think I’m mad for wanting the rod,” Seto replied.

“You worry too much.”

Seto scoffed. “Or I’m not worrying enough. What’s their aim?”

Kisara motioned for the memorials and scrolls were swept aside for the golden box. “I think things are going well with Kul. They’re just being cautious so they don’t get misrepresented by an item that’s...sort of unknown to everyone.”

“It’s not unknown to them.”

“Still, you shouldn’t get so worried. Not about them; what you should worry about is me beating you in cards later. I’ve gotten a much better deck now, my victory is assured,” she said with faux machismo.

“Tch. I doubt it.”

“You won’t know until you try me.” Kisara winked, but she noticed that Seto only loosened so much. His brow was heavy; he only twitched to grin and let out a one-breath laugh. “The Empress demands you play her in cards after this. At least it’ll take your mind off the Maximillion.”

“I’m hardly worried about Crawford or his barbarians.”

“So...Ne-Yah, then,” Kisara guessed. He didn’t have to affirm it for her. She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Are you thinking it’s being instigated by him or magistrate Jounouchi?”

“Both. Jounouchi is a drunk who thinks he can negotiate and can’t, and Crawford is...”Seto shivered. As far as Kisara knew, he’d only met the Maximillion once, when Seto was still a prince, and it hadn’t been very pleasant on his end. “I’m not worried about them unless one of them gets bold, but they’re both too childish to get along.”

“Well, it sounds like Kul is much nicer, regardless. Consider this lesson a...kindness by them, not an insult,” Kisara advised. “And the Man seems to be excited about this meeting, anyways. So Buruaizu needs to stop being mean to the Empress and play cards with her.”

Seto rolled his eyes and hummed in agreement, hiding his amusement as their guests—Mahad and a hooded man—were announced and seated. The golden box was laid on the table and unlidded. He and Kisara looked in on it. Kisara grabbed his hand to remind him to keep steady and appear uninterested in having the item, however disingenuous it was. This was still Buruaizu looking these men down.

“And who’s this handler?” Seto asked, regarding the handler suspiciously. Sharp, amethyst eyes and a distinct, familiar slope to his nose and jawline stood out. “Remove the hood.”

“Marik Ishtar, I am,” the man said, his accent coarse and nasally, unfamiliar with Domi’s tongue. He threw back the hood, blond tresses neatly tied back, easily hidden beneath the hood.

Kisara gripped Seto’s hand. “My, so this is Consort Ishizu’s esteemed little brother we’ve heard so much about.”

Marik bowed his head, but his expression was empty. “I am that, Majesty.”

“She never mentioned he had golden hair though,” Seto said, even.

“Have this as...traits...,” Marik stumbled, searching for words.

Mahad cleared his throat, stopping the broken attempts at finding a reason while the younger man became frustrated. Kisara realised then that he was no older than fifteen or sixteen, and yet he was the handler of the rod. My, what a fascinating boy he was. And yet Ishizu had never mentioned it.

“For ease, I will interpret for him,” Mahad offered and he spoke briefly to Marik, brows raised. Marik rattled something off in Kul’s tongue before looking off. “He says that his hair is a natural trait of the Ishtar family that appears every so often due to their closeness to the sacred items. He understands your shock at it, but he by no means wished to hide it.”

“(Don’t lie to them),” Marik snapped. “(I won’t be another one of his whores).”

Mahad’s shoulders dropped. “We are aware of the sort of conundrum this may bring in regards to finding the gift, of course.”

“It’s not. I’ve already found the gift.” Seto laced his fingers into Kisara’s, though the other fiddled with his fan, bending his thumbnail into the wood. “I’m aware of the affects the items can have on their users, biological or otherwise. Tell me why this one requires special handling.”

“(The same reason we don’t let him touch my sister’s necklace. He’d corrupt himself with power. They’re not supposed to be collected like toys),” Marik said.

“When they are in close proximity to one another, they have a tendency to cause trouble,” Mahad explained once Marik finished. “The necklace that Consort Ishizu has, as well the scales within your personal collection tend to...bounce off of one another. The prophecy explicitly mentions that it is imperative to keep them separated in order to preserve balance in the world.”

“But it doesn’t hurt the user?”

“Not specifically, no,” Mahad replied.

Marik huffed and reached into the box, clutching the rod and displaying it. Nothing special occurred, though Kisara was sure she saw the ends of his stand up, his eyes widen, and his cheeks become a little more taut, veins protruding.

“Then the warning is because of the other items?” Seto reiterated.

“Yes and no.”

“Explain.”

“It’s complicated, and has to do with the nuance within the prophecy itself, Your Majesty. The texts are especially unclear, but seem to hint that...bringing them together would do more harm than good.”

Seto settled back. Marik played with the rod, keeping it tight to his chest and rubbing it.

“That’s what the gift offsets,” said Seto. “I’m aware of the corruptive nature of the items. A millennia ago they were the cause of the Thousand Clan War. But that’s because they weren’t used to awaken the gift. The gift hadn’t even been found in their time.”

Marik scoffed. “(Idiot. The items don’t awaken the gift. They’re meant to seal the bastard away and make sure they don’t wipe us out. He clearly hasn’t read the prophecy).”

“(That’s only one interpretation),” Mahad murmured. “(Mind your tongue around His Majesty. He may play us for dumb and know our language).”

“(He looks like an idiot. He’s staring at the rod like he stares at my sister’s breast. He doesn’t hear a thing).”

Mahad sighed deeply, and his eyes met Kisara’s before he smiled. The empress sank lower in her chair, the heat from the open door became overwhelming. The ill feeling hadn’t left her for days, and it was difficult to focus on anything other than Marik’s harsh syllables of the Kul language. “Your language is very lovely,” she lied in lieu of absent staring. “It’s like poetry. Ishizu sometimes has her maids perform music for us, and it’s some of my favourite.”

“We thank you for such kind words, Your Majesty,” Mahad said.

Seto’s eyes narrowed. “The Ishtar seems upset. I imagine you’re going to tell me why.”

“The prophecy, sire,” Mahad said. He shot a cross look at Marik before taking the rod from him. He set it back in the box. “There are various interpretations out there still, and one is particularly worrying, that perhaps the gift is less of a gift and more of a...curse.”

“Mm.”

“But that’s only if all seven are collected which, unfortunately, records say the key was lost during the Thousand Clan War. Whatever any seers or magicks or...historians,” he drawled, glancing to Marik with an angered eye, “believe may happen when all are reunited is impossible. Again, we’re concerned about the closeness, and Marik recommends it stays away from both the necklace or the scales. The closer it is to them, the more harmful it is. It can produce occult magick then.”

“What kind of occult magick?”

The question was left unanswered as Seto took the rod from the box. Marik visibly tensed. Though less intense, Kisara’s breath hitched in her throat as Seto examined it thoroughly. It glowed in his hands, the eye lighting up.

Kisara’s vision blurred. Her chin touched her chest as it tightened. Her hand loosened from Seto’s and balled up in her lap. Despite the intense heat, she felt unbelievably cold and involuntarily shivered.

Weakly, Kisara looked to Seto. He was enraptured by the rod, unblinking. She opened her mouth but couldn’t say anything. Whatever this feeling was pooled in her stomach, and she let out a heavy exhale.

“Empress?” Mahad asked.

Seto blinked. He met Kisara’s eye, shaken, and immediately set the rod back in box. “Kisara?”

“I-I’m sorry,” she whispered. Her breath returned. “I don’t know what’s come over me...”

With her vision still stifled, slowly returning, she saw as Seto flicked his wrist for guards to emerge and approach both Mahad and Marik. The pharaoh’s advisor seemed understanding and sincere, asking about her health and wishing her well as Seto ordered them away. But she could only focus on Marik who stood with wide, manic eyes, grinning ear to ear at her as she fought the nausea rolling in her stomach. Those eyes haunted her as he maids escorted her to a private courtyard where she promptly threw up.

—

There weren’t greetings the day after, either. Jounouchi only knew when Honda came back into the house and woke him mid-morning by muttering to himself: “...annoying. They always waste my time with stupid court rumours. No, I don’t know anything about Ne-Yah or the magistrate and I’m not gonna ask for you...”

“Mm...what about Ne-Yah?” Jounouchi asked.

“Nothing. They eunuchs were asking me stupid questions, again. They held me up for an hour trying to get me tell them something about...I didn’t even understand what they wanted. But get this: they were even trying to bribe me.”

Jounouchi yawned and snorted. “Where’ve you been that eunuchs are harassin’ ya like that?”

“I was grabbing the monthly stipend.” Honda set a small but heavy chest on Jounouchi’s writing desk and nudged it towards him.

Again, Jounouchi rubbed his eyes. He usually didn’t get a box, just a small purse with coppers and silvers that was supposed to last the whole month. It wasn’t just for him, but for his entire household as well. He paid the salary of his servants and guards, which included the kitchen staff somewhere across the palace grounds. He received 2000 coppers and 200 silver, normally. It took 25 coppers to equal a silver. When he opened the box, there were two notes inside; one for 5000 coppers, one for 1500 silver, and a large purse with another 500 silver and ten gold. Each gold was worth 250 silver, if he remember from his father’s lessons—he didn’t handle gold otherwise.

He almost fell over.

“W-what...what the hell’s all this?”

Honda smiled. “Bonus, I guess. For fulfilling your duty. They also gave you a bunch of silks and furs, too. But that’s in storage for whenever you need it.”

“I...I don’t want this though. I don’t need it. What the heck am I gonna do with all of this, exactly? It ain’t like I can go out to market and buy stuff with it. And even if I could, I have no clue what the heck I’d buy. Not with this kind of money. Plus...I...I dunno what exactly I did in the first place.”

The gold rolled in between his fingers. Soft and smooth, in a way that the silvers weren’t. The Palace surprised him every time, though he couldn’t be sure if he was excited to have it or not. Being paid for performing his job made sense; as the emperor’s concubine, he received the stipend like pay. Receiving more, however, made it hard to sink in.

“You just did your job, that’s all. You’ve been getting paid up until now,” Honda said.

“I know.”

“So think of this as...a bonus for a job well done.”

The gold was thrown back into the pouch and the lid slammed shut. “That ain’t helpin’,” he said. Trying to explain why it bothered him was difficult. Sure, this was a job. But it was also a marriage. And it was a relationship. And it was sex. Being paid for those things didn’t seem like it was required. They were all a part of each other.

“Don’t think about it to hard, it’s just how this place works,” Honda said. After a moment, his face lit up. “Oh, and there’s one more thing they told me to give you...”

“Oh great...” Jounouchi moaned.

“You’re the only person I know who would complain about getting paid.” Honda took Jounouchi”s wrist and threw another pouch in his palm. “Open it. I’m curious what it is.”

Begrudgingly, Jounouchi opened the little pouch up. Two small pearl rolled out of it, one black and one white. “Wanna tell me what this is then?” He asked.

“Uh, not sure.” Honda scratched his head. “They could be those pearls the ladies get sometimes. They’re supposed to be for luck and uhhh....fertility. They tie them in sacks of rice and hang them over their beds so...you know...”

“Aw, man. That’s so weird.” Jounouchi curl his nose and shook his head. “They know I’m a guy, right?”

Honda didn’t hide his laughter. “It’s prolly just tradition.”

“It ain’t funny!” Jounouchi shouted, but the more Honda laughed, the harder it was for him to avoid laughing, too, until tears formed in his eyes. He rolled the pearls in his hands. “What am I gonna do with ‘em then? They ain’t gonna do nothin’ hangin’ over my bed...”

Honda shrugged. “They’re decent pearls. You could sell them.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hm. I could take them to market with me when I go for errands. There’s always someone willing to buy.”

“They won’t get mad?” Jounouchi asked.

“I don’t see why not. They’re yours once they’re given to you. Do what you want with them. Like you said: they aren’t useful.”

And a small idea began forming in Jounouchi’s mind. It wasn’t like he could just give the money back. It’d be insulting someone. Kaiba, probably. He didn’t want that on his conscience, no matter how unsure he felt about the payment. Instead, he thought about how much money he now had to spend. He never asked for much from the market—no more than seeds or trimmings for the house, and even then, it was sparing. But someone made cards for Wands and Soldiers.

“I’ll buy cards,” he announced. “Enough to make a really good deck. I’m gonna beat Kaiba no matter what, no matter how long it takes. I got the time, and with this money, I know I can do it if I get the right cards.”

Honda smiled. “Alright. I’ll pick up a bunch when I head out tomorrow, then. Anything else you want?”

“Nah. Cards is enough. We get a bunch and we can split them to play with, too, right?”

“I can give it a shot. I can’t say I’d be too good at it,” Honda replied. But he seemed happy—hopefully it would be as good as the other silly games they played together. Though it would probably end in an argument, as it always did.

—

Along with the strange new payment, Jounouchi expected more changes now that he’d fulfilled his duty. He didn’t know what. Sights or sounds or...sensations. Sex was supposed to be that sort of thing, regardless of what Honda had said to him. The most change he actually saw was an influx of visitors to his little apartment. The first visitors were Hana and Mari, the pair of Honourable Attendants who never left each other’s side (real sisters, he thought, but never asked). They come to him a few days after, offering sugared berries and milk tea, admiring his garden, and asking a variety of questions. Some were harmless, like what the inside of the emperor’s chambers looked like. He didn’t remember, he told them. A few days later, they began to get more intimate, asking about the experiences, asking things like: “Did he give you those bruises?” and “Did he bite your lip, Miho says he likes to bite”.

Jounouchi blushed and stammered his way out of the conversation, looking to Honda for something to say. His friend just laughed, unhelpful as ever, while Jounouchi stumbled onto another topic. The girls brushed his bashfulness off, and returned every few days after that, sitting and talking with him. Other times, they walked with him out of morning greetings. They told him about their lives, their families, their beauty routines. He couldn’t say he remembered much of it, nor did he get a word in edge wise, but he liked the company.

Due to the impressive summer heat rolling, morning greeting changed from every day to every three days. Even then, Kisara always looked as if she was ready to melt. She kept her hair tied in a simple plait. Her dresses were thin and light, with gauzy sleeves. Her face was plain, though there was just enough powder to hide the flush on her cheeks. Anzu let him know that. “She’s self-conscious; ‘The Empress doesn’t look so pink, especially not with hair like this’, she told me.”

“She’s a’right though, right? I mean...other than bein’ self-conscious. I haven’t gotten t’ see her since the Festival and...”he paused, not sure how to address this. “I’m gettin’ a little scared I’m never gonna get t’ see her again.”

Anzu blinked. “It’s not that serious, Jou. Don’t be so dire.”

“I don’t mean that way!” He waved his hands frantically, realising what he’d said. “I’m sure she’ll be a’right. What I meant was that I ain’t seen her since the night of the Festival an’ I might’ve said a few things that I didn’t really mean to say. Drunk and upset and all that. I meant to apologise. She’s way too nice for me t’ be actin’ like that since she’s the Empress. But also especially since she’s like one of the few people around here who doesn’t scare me.”

“Does that mean I scare you?” Anzu asked.

“No! Not at all,” Jounouchi said. If there was one constant friend he had, beyond the tepid relationship he was forming with Hana and Mari, it was Anzu. He went almost everywhere with her and Honda. It was nice to have someone to talk to about the things he didn’t understand, especially things that he couldn’t exactly talk to Honda about. Sex, relationships, and fitting into the weird world of women hiding behind silk curtains. Anzu was always there and always smiled. But he added: “Ya only scare me when you talk about ghosts an’ curses...”

“Only because I’m your friend, Jou.”

“Friendship ain’t got nothin’ to do with that.”

“I tell you those stories with all the love in my heart, Jou. Seriously. It’s just to toughen you up to them. The Sisters love sharing a good ghost story, her Majesty most of all. When you see her again, you should tell her about all the wards you stuck to your little tree,” Anzu said. The little wards fluttered from the branches of the magnolia sapling, with words like ‘hope’ and ‘luck’ written on them.

Jounouchi crossed his arms. “I’m gonna tell her. And I’ll tell her someone—or somethin’!—is movin’ my flower pots around and leaving doors open at night.”

“That’s just Honda,” said Anzu, huffing.

“He says it ain’t.”

“Then he’s lying to mess with you.”

Jounouchi frowned. “Honda doesn’t lie to me. I would know if he’s lyin’ because he’s so dang terrible at it. Besides, even if it was, there’s somethin’ moaning in there. I’ve woken up and he ain’t makin’ any noise.”

“Whatever.” Anzu sighed, exasperated. They went silent for a few moments, watching hummingbirds flit over the garden. “Seriously though, I doubt she faults you for being upset that night. I was upset, and so were most of the others. Don’t feel bad.”

“I’m still gonna apologise.”

“Go ahead,” Anzu insisted. “But tell her about the magnolia tree, too.”

—

Anzu made Jounouchi want to get up in the early morning.

It wasn’t like that first. He would often sleep until the very last moment before greetings and dress in a hurry or, on the days there weren’t greetings, she would arrive without notice and pace the garden while Honda threw clothes on his head. She’d caught him wearing pants backwards before and didn’t let him live it down. But they would quickly devolve into entertaining themselves. If there was anyone who knew how to entertain themselves, it was Anzu. She had a game or a skill for every hour of the day. Cards, chess, perfume-making, beading, poetry, music, embroidery; all the ladies embroidered, and she told him it was a good skill to have. Both for making their own clothes, but also selling them to the market. “A lot of the Consort’s works get traded to the far empires, too, I’ve heard. Crazy, huh?” she said.

Jounouchi attempts were terrible. He ended up pricking his fingers bleeding on the fabric more than embroidering it. He left that to the ladies.

His favourite game, other than Wands and Soldiers, was arrow-tossing. It was a simple game: throw an arrow into different sized pots placed at different distances. The further and thinner the pot, the more points that were accumulated. He spent hours just talking and playing the game with her.

Early one morning, several weeks in, he and Honda fluttered around the courtyard readjusting the pots. He dropped one next to the door.

Anzu stepped through. “Woah, getting ready early today,” she commented.

“You bet. I already watered the garden and had breakfast, too. So we’re good t’ go.” Jounouchi went to wipe his hands on his trousers but pulled out a kerchief instead.

Anzu chuckled. “You’re so impatient, Jou.”

“Me?! You’re the one showin’ up this damn early.”

“That’s just because you get ice really fast.”

“I do?”

Anzu hovered over the square cauldron of ice kept on Jounouchi’s porch. It was changed out often, never left to melt, but he never saw when. “Yeah, why’d you think I’m over here so often?”

Silence. Jounouchi opened his mouth, closed it.

“I’m kidding. Kidding.” Anzu swatted him lightly. “I’m going be here no matter what, just to bother you. The ice is just a bonus.”

Laughter filled his chest. “Hey, it beats bein’ bothered by the other two. They ask me all sortsa...questions,” he said, grimacing. In a lower voice, he added: “They ask me about intimate stuff that I don’t really...know how t’ answer for them. We’re a little different down there an’ I dunno how t’ tell them that without comin’ off as a jerk.”

Anzu grinned. “Be yourself. Be honest. That’s just...normal talk and they’re trying to make you one of the girls. Or they want you to tell them your secrets.”

“Secrets?”

“You know,” Anzu winked, “bedroom secrets. What works and what doesn’t. It’s your choice whether to tell them or not, but I promise, they’re both harmless.”

Jounouchi picked in his ear with his pinky, hiding the heat in his cheeks. ‘One of the girls’. He shuddered and stopped, pulling his finger out. That wasn’t lady-like. He didn’t even know if he should be lady-like, but he stopped and wiped his finger on the kerchief. He didn’t want someone to complain or have ammo on one of his bad habits.

Anzu added: “It also comes with the territory of being favourite.”

“We had one night together.”

“Yeah, but you were also the Spirit, too.”

“Coincidence,” Jounouchi grumbled, folding his arms over his chest.

He didn’t know why this topic strained him so much. He sort of like the feeling of being favourite. At least for the most part. The benefits were nice. Mostly being social with people, but he noticed other things. If Honda asked for anything from the Housing Ministry or the kitchen, the reaction was immediate and handled with care. Which had him turn to the ice, apparently another benefit he hadn’t even thought about. There were probably hundreds of things he hadn’t noticed.

“So where are they even gettin’ the ice from anyways, the Northern Continent?” Jounouchi asked, quickly changing topics.

“You think it would make it from all the way up there?” 

That was a good point. The capital sat almost in the centre of the country, thousands of miles from the constant snows of the Northern Continent. He doubted ice would survive a straightforward trek, let alone going through the numerous mountain passes that encapsulated Domi’s capital, making it a natural stronghold. “A’right, so magick then?”

“Probably in some places.” Anzu threw an arrow and landed it neatly in a front pot. “It just comes from the cellars here. Big wine and meat cellars for preserves stuff like that. They keep what they call ‘ice houses’ that collect it, and then ship it out to the apartments during the summertime.”

Jounouchi took his turn quickly, lobbing the arrow towards a middle pot. He missed. “Huh. Ain’t never heard of that before. We never did anything like that back home. If ya wanted to keep meat for a while, ya jus’ smoked it an’ it won’t go bad a fast. And it’s freakin’ tasty, too.”

Anzu took her turn. “Ne-Yah is warm all year round, isn’t it?” she mused aloud.

“Warm and dry, yeah. This sun feels kind of nice, to be honest.”

Anzu rolled her eyes. “You’re insane. It is no where near this gross where I’m from.”

“Baby.”

“I am not!” Angrily, Anzu threw the arrow towards the pot and missed. “When it hurts to breathe, it’s too hot. And if you don’t think so, you’re the weird one. No ifs or buts.”

Jounouchi tried not to laugh at her miss. She was so easy to rile up sometimes. But he liked that she had personality. All of his other Sisters felt like demure paper cutouts. The original thought he had of them as walking paintings still remained in his mind. They had about as much depth. Anzu felt like a person—he wondered if that was why she was a consort.

“Now that ya mention it, I don’t think you’ve ever told me where you’re from. Gotta be north a bit if you ain’t used to the heat,” he reasoned.

Anzu wiped her hands on the ice and ran it up her forearms. “Wabo. I grew up in Ku, by the sea. My father’s the Vice Minister of Trade, so we lived right by Ku High Port.”

“That is pretty up there,” Jounouchi mused as he made a throw, silently congratulating himself as he hit the middle pot. “Guess ya get a lot more snow than heat, huh?”

Anzu took up an arrow and launched it, hitting a closer pot. “Yep. We get a month or two of summer and then it gets cold again. I’d much rather be playing around in snow. We all make little snow sculptures in our courtyards and the servants vote on whose best.”

“Sounds like a whole lotta fun,” Jounouchi said. And something he’d have to get used to. It got a little cool in Ne-Yah, but it only snowed on the other side of the hills, very rarely making it over them. He was at a disadvantage, but it would be fun. “So how’d ya get down here if you’re from all the way up there? K-Buruaizu didn’t jus’ wander up there and see ya....or did he?”

Anzu clicked her tongue. “Not even. I’d rarely been to the capital before I came to live in the palace. I went through the concubine’s selection.”

“Is that right?” Jounouchi asked absently, like he knew. It didn’t sound like others came in a prisoner’s cart.

“...do you know what that is?”

“Uh...kinda? I think it happened in Ne-Yah, but my sister was too young at the time. Girls had to be like fifteen, an’ my father was pissed she was too young. He’d bought her a dress and everything.”

It hit Jounouchi how strange it was that he was in the harem, instead. He wondered if his father was proud, or if he was just grateful not to have his head lopped off.

“Its a mess. Be happy she didn’t. You go before a bunch of old ministers and grand concubines and they ask you five-thousand questions about integrity, honour, courage and marital piety. If they like what they hear you move on and they put you in a ton of make-up and an itchy dress and you perform this...dance with other girls. For grace, I suppose. Then they measure you, make sure you don’t smell, check...everything. I mean everything Jou, it’s insane. They check so many holes.”

Jounouchi grimaced, asking: “And then what?” He absently threw the arrow and missed a far pot.

“You wait. Maybe thirty or forty are selected to go in front of the Emperor and Empress. There’s so many things that can go wrong. I saw girls dismissed because they spoke to loud, or too low, or because their eyebrows weren’t even. Miho said one girl cried and had to be escorted out. They told her none of her family could ever take part in the selection again.”

“Damn, that’s harsh.”

Anzu nodded, sullen. “They’re serious. I never thought I’d make it through, honestly. I tripped on my way into the final selection. Buruaizu kept staring at me like I’d grown a second head. I thought he was going to make fun of me—he did make fun of one girl”s dress. Kind of. Everyone else laughed, but I didn’t.”

“He say anythin’ about that?”

“No, but I was the only picked from my group. There were five of us picked out of about 6000.”

Jounouchi whistled. “And you call me lucky. _That_ is some luck, sis.”

Knocking her head, Anzu agreed silently before throwing an arrow. It hit a far pot, jumping and hollering, sticking her tongue out to Jounouchi. “I’m so gonna beat you. Calling it now.”

“Oh no, ya ain’t.”

The conversation died away. Jounouchi was grateful. He didn’t think Anzu held his luck against him. She was supportive and kind; it just made him think about how much worse he may have been viewed by others. An outsider, a man, a foreigner, and someone who had skipped through, well, everything. He tried to smile, but he could help feeling like a faker. What if they found out he really wasn’t the gift. What then?

—

Summer bled into autumn, but the heat never died.

Jounouchi found himself enjoying the bake of the summer sun on his shoulders. When no one was around, he wore loose tunics and hemmed pants. The edict that he show his feet made it easy to mess around in the garden. He didn’t worry about his clothes getting covered in dirt when he pulled weeds or pruned, though his ability to do so was often hindered by his myriad of on-and-off visits. Most were by concubine, but some had been by Kaiba himself.

He never stayed long enough for Honda could never make tea. Just long enough to stand in the courtyard and look over the garden. He didn’t seemed impressed by it, but didn’t say anything callous, either.

In lieu of the impossible task of making Kaiba speak, Jounouchi stood beside him and watched whatever he watched. The morning glories, begonias, mandevillas. The magnolia tree, which he touched the wards on and smirked at. Sometimes, he’d grab Jounouchi’s hand and press his fingers into Jounouchi’s palm. He’d asked why once, and got the reply: “Why not?”

Fine.

Jounouchi rolled his eyes and stayed steady.

Other times, he was called to Kaiba’s study for lunch or dinner, where they would eat in silence. It was only after Jounouchi had finally suggested a game of Wands and Soldiers. He hadn’t at first; he hadn’t felt good enough to beat Kaiba at first, so once he amassed a deck long into the summer, he played with Anzu and some of the other Sisters. Anyone who was willing to play. He worked his deck around the details, trying to recall his games with Kaiba, and when he felt comfortable—which ended up being unfortunately sooner than necessary—he revealed his deck to Kaiba, and they played.

It was terrible. He was decimated, sometimes immediately. The challenge, and the potential payout, was all the mattered.

So he drank cool tea and played against his Sisters during the day, and every few nights or so, he was called upon by Kaiba. They rarely ended up in bed, though nothing resisted the heat of the night quite like Kaiba’s cool touch all over his body. Though liked it when Kaiba fondled him or he laid beneath Kaiba, taking his length, it didn’t compare to the fire wicking in his blood when they sat together playing cards and talking about nothing. Maybe it was the gentle touches afterwards, or the promise of another day.

Often, they sat and played so long that Jounouchi fell asleep, his head rested on the table. In the morning, he’d wake up stiff, a robe draped over his shoulders. Kaiba had left for court many hours before, but on the tabletop, he arranged a fake scenario between the two decks, and would offer little challenges for Jounouchi.

 _Beat me in four turns or less,_ or; _how would I defeat you in one turn?_

His guesses were never right. Kaiba’s smirk would upturn and he’d sigh: “Simple pup,” and never offer to show the solution. 

As annoyed as Kaiba made Jounouchi, as stupid and obnoxious as his challenges were, at the end of the day, that little smirk was almost worth it. Because it was so close to a smile—so faint and so warm that Jounouchi knew he would get a genuine one in a victory or a right answer.

—

“Hey, Jou, wake up.”

“Mmm...not sleepin’. Too hot.” The palace considered it autumn, but the weather hadn’t changed with the decorations. In fact, it had gotten worse. The air was as thick as mutton stew, and it made for terrible sleep.

Still, Honda shook his shoulder. “Get up then, I gotta talk to you.”

Jounouchi plucked his under-robe from his sweat-laden skin, washed off, and joined Honda at where he had set up breakfast at the dining table and was munching on a fresh basket of Miho’s strawberry cakes. He must have run into her on his way back with breakfast, as he seemed to do often anymore. Not that Jounouchi minded. She was trying to be nice from a distance, probably for looks. At least it made Honda happy...and bashful.

Honda offered the basket.

“I still don’t want ‘em,” Jounouchi said. “You can have ‘em.”

With his mouth full, Honda replied: “Muff oblifed.”

Jounouchi fell into his chair and pulled the cool broth, stirred in egg, close. The monthly stipend sat in the centre of the table in its usual pouch. “What’d you wanna talk about?”

“Stuff.” Honda swallowed and licked his lips. Another cake was taken. “Stuff I heard from the eunuchs today.”

“They harassin’ you again? I can take ‘em on, if you want,” Jounouchi said, half-joking, half-serious. “It’s been a while since I got into a row, but I can take ‘em. I promise.”

Honda snorted. “There’s like fifty of ‘em. Maybe more. They live in the walls, you know.”

“So?” Jounouchi pounded his fist into his palm. “I got ‘em. You and me, bud.”

Jounouchi sensed something wrong when Honda set the cake down completely. Just beneath the pouch were several different papers. Honda upended the money and showed Jounouchi the first paper. It read:

_For the consideration of the ladies and gentlemen of the province of Ne-Yah:_

_It is in your best interest to provide provisions of wheat and grain to the Ai-Tu clan  
In return, your city will receive protection from bandits, raiders, a promise of safe travel both to and from the province and country, and a sizeable monthly salary for your generosity._

_These benefits have been promised by the Maximillion himself._

At the bottom, Jounouchi’s thumb brushed over his father’s official stamp. Most of the poster was worn, tore at the edges and bleached by the sun.

“Where’d this come from?”

Honda shook his head. “They told me a merchant coming from Ne-Yah gave it to ‘em when they brought in grain. There’s a bunch of different ones. All of them with your father’s name on them.”

“So...what’d the eunuch’s want?”

“Money.”

Jounouchi clenched his teeth. “For what?”

“Their silence. It’s being talked over by the ministers, apparently, but no one’s got concrete evidence yet. Just rumours.”

The poster was balled up and thrown on the ground. Blood rushed into Jounouchi’s ears, and it was suddenly hard to breath. “No way. There’s no way that my father is so stupid. Even if he really needed money, he wouldn’t do this so openly. He had to be threatened...or...or...”Jounouchi jumped up, throwing on an over-robe. Honda caught him before he reached the door. “Let me go! I gotta go beat up some stupid-ass eunuchs. No one’s threatenin’ me or my family with this.”

“Jou, stop and think for a sec.” 

“There ain’t nothin’ to think about. I ain’t lettin’ some dickless assholes blackmail me.”

“And what’s gonns happen when you beat up the Housing Ministry? You think your family is going to be any safer?”

Jounouchi’s fists clenched by his side. He shook. “I gotta do somethin’. If this gets to Kaiba, it’s just as bad. Even if it’s fake, my mom...Shizuka...”

Warm hands settled on his shoulders. “I know, man. It’s a shitty situation. But right now, you got two choices: bribe them or don’t. They’re expecting me back in an hour with an answer.”

This wasn’t just him. He’d willingly take the punishment if Kaiba found out about the posters or if he beat the eunuchs up. Either option worrying about his family: both at home and within his own apartments. Honda had become his brother, and he, as well as his family relied on Jounouchi financially. What sort of job would he have to a treasonous master?

“I’ll talk to Kaiba, then,” he resolved, and tried pushing through Honda.

Honda pushed back. “Even worse.”

“And why the hell is that?”

“Because concubines don’t talk politics with the emperor. They remain impartial; only the Empress is allowed.”

“That’s bullshit.”

Honda held his hands up in surrender. “I know it is. Trust me, it’s a shitty situation. The eunuchs know that, and that’s why they’re doing this.”

“Then I’ll go talk to Kisara,” Jounouchi said, and he charged by Honda, all the way to the door. His arm was grabbed and he was yanked back. He faced Honda with his heart thrumming. “Don’t make me fight you instead. I’ll do it, man. I’ll knock ya out if I gotta. I have to take care of this.”

“Then punch me,” Honda said, opening himself up wide. “Wipe the floor with me, _Attendant_.”

Jounouchi narrowed his eyes. His fists clenched and feet spread. Electric tingled at his nerves, and he swung, making contact with Honda’s cheek before Honda grabbed him and threw him across the yard. He stumbled.

“You gotta think this through,” Honda insisted.

“I have. This is for my family! I gotta talk to her, or Kaiba, or someone. I gotta do somethin’...if somethin’ happens...”he swung again, but Honda caught him just short of a powerful blow to the stomach. Jounouchi was tossed to the ground. “C’mon, fight me!”

“If you wanna take this out on me, go on ahead. But that ain’t solving the problem.”

Jounouchi picked himself up and patted his hands on his trousers. “Damn...” The adrenaline kicked his heart against his ribs. Sweat blotted his brow and stung his eyes. It was too damn hot for this. “Dammit Honda, I—,”

“S’alright, man, I get it.”

“It just...doesn’t feel like it matters. If we pay ‘em and it gets out anyways...”

“If we pay them now, we have time to come up with a solution,” Honda said.

“Like what?”

“I dunno.”

Jounouchi’s shoulders slumped. He slicked sweat up into his bangs. “Dammit. Dammit.” He turned and punched the wall. This wasn’t easy. If it ended up coming out before he figured out how to convince Kaiba that his father wasn’t a part of this, his family was dead.

Shizuka...

“Fine,” he muttered. And he nodded to himself as he drew courage. “Fine, pay the bastards. Give them whatever they ask for. But I need ya t’ do somethin’ else, too.”

“What’s that?”

Jounouchi charged back into the apartment and opened up the jewellery box. “I want you to mail this stuff.” Several hairpins, bracelets and rings were selected and laid next to the pouch. He took out three gold coins he hadn’t used. Quickly, he wrote out a letter and blew it dry. “Find a way for this to get to Ne-Yah, to my sister. Fast. Don’t make it a big deal, a’right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Honda agreed. Jounouchi dug into the pouch and pulled out Honda’s pay, plus several more silvers and coppers for good measure. Honda counted it several times. “This ain’t right; it’s too much.”

“Yeah, I know. Do whatever ya need for you an’ your family, too. From now on, we gotta play it safe.”

Honda fisted the coins and nodded. “Will do.”

“Go an’ give them whatever it is they want and meet me at Kaiba’s study when you’re done.” 

Honda blanched. “But I just said—,”

“Trust me,” Jounouchi interrupted. “I got a plan going. It’s kinda half-baked, but like ya said, the money is gonna buy us time.” 

Trepidation covered Honda’s face, but he eventually nodded. Whatever qualms he was having, he dealt with in a matter of seconds. That was loyalty and friendship, Jounouchi hoped as he ran off and out of the apartment. 

—

Before long, Jounouchi met up with Anzu and headed to Kaiba’s study. Not wearing shoes didn’t slow him down, no matter how hot the cobblestone got. He was on a mission.

It didn’t take long to be shown into Kaiba’s study. He was acutely aware of all the paperwork that covered the dwelling, scrolls and texts as tall as mountains. He never asked before; before, it was government business, and he figured he would be bored to death by it. But now, he wondered if the accusations against his father were in there somewhere waiting to be seen.

At the table, Mokuba sat across from Kaiba. They were in the heat of game of Wands and Soldiers. Mokuba slammed down a card and peeled away his brother’s wall.

“Gotcha this time!”

“So you say,” Kaiba replied coolly.

Mokuba snickered. “Hey Jou, hey TeaTea.”

Anzu blushed and fell onto a chair beside Jounouchi. “That’s Anzu to you, munchkin.”

“I’m not a munchkin!”

Anzu stretched her arm over Mokuba’s head without touching a hair on it. “I don’t know, you’re still pretty short to me,” she said. She pulled her arm back before Mokuba bucked up and glared.

“Oh yeah? Well...your...your...dress doesn’t match your shoes.”

Anzu scoffed. “You’re just too young to get how fashion works.”

Leaning over, Jounouchi tried to get a look. Anzu pulled him up by the collar, her twisted face daring him to look further.

“I don’t think I want to. You girls make it so complicated. Why are girls complicated?” Mokuba asked, slapping down another card.

“Many philosophers have questioned that very thing,” Kaiba said dryly.

Anzu pouted. “You don’t have to be mean about it.”

“He’s not being mean, he’s being honest. But you wouldn’t get that, because you’re a girl,” Mokuba said tongue out.

Jounouchi couldn’t help but snicker, both from holding Anzu back and watching as Kaiba finished Mokuba off, sweeping up the last of his walls.

Mokuba clenched his cards and threw them onto the table. “Dammit...!”

“Mokuba...” Kaiba chided.

“She’s right, you are mean.”

A delighted smirk appeared on Kaiba’s face. He helped Mokuba pick up all the cards and reset their decks. “Why have you two come?” Kaiba asked.

The first thing that crammed into Jounouchi’s mouth was swallowed. He couldn’t bring up the poster or the blackmail yet. He had to be careful about it. Strategic, with just a little luck. Which was about as good as he could do.

“Play ya, a’course,” Jounouchi said, displaying his deck. He looked to Anzu. “Ladies first, though.”

She laughed behind her hand and took a seat when Kaiba opened it up for her. The match was fairly short, and while Anzu was a fair opponent, she didn’t seem as interested in winning even though she had wagered a day in the market. He didn’t pay too close attention. Instead, he noticed the same golden scales from before, but now, there was something else next to it. A strange gold rod. When the match was over with, Jounouchi came back to his senses and took his seat and laid his deck out. He took in a deep breath.

“Nervous?” Kaiba asked.

“In your dreams. Jus’ excited.”

“As always,” Kaiba said. They shuffled and drew their starting hands. From beneath the table, he felt Kaiba foot moving about, pulling out of his slipper and brushing it along the bare arch of Jounouchi’s. A shiver was swallowed. “What’s got you so excited?”

“I’ve got a special wager in mind.”

“Mm.”

“I wager bein’ able to...to sit in court with you and the Empress,” he said, speaking slow and clear. He didn’t want to mess up his words.

A sharp glint hit Kaiba’s eyes, and they narrowed before widening again. His brow rose. “You’re really that interested in politics that you’d break etiquette, pup?”

“Eh...jus’ thought it might be somethin’ interestin’.”

His head was swirling just thinking of whatever stupid reason it was that he needed to come up with for being in court. Kaiba regarded him with cool disregard and rolled his shoulders. “You’re not going to win any favour doing that.”

“I ain’t in it for that,” Jounouchi assured. “I remember me an’ you on the first day there. That’s all. Throne room leaves an impression on you; all the fancy things an’ the people. Plus you an’ Her Majesty of course. There’s just something’...” Jounouchi shook his head and found it swimming. His attention went back to the scales, the rod. Something distant spoke in his ear. “It’s somethin’. I wanna see it again.”

“Heh, flattery doesn’t suit you.”

Jounouchi smiled weakly. “It ain’t flattery. I’m serious.”

Kaiba clicked his tongue, and a little grin formed with the tip of his tongue poking out from between his lips. He could be playful while he was irritating. That’s something Jounouchi was drawn to. If there was no other good qualities of Kaiba—many were hard to find—it the subtle playful charm he found from time to time.

“Prepare to be bored outta your skull, Jou,” Mokuba said. “I’m bored just thinking about it.”

“I’m sure it ain’t that bad.”

Mokuba began to fake snore, rolling onto the floor. Kaiba shook his leg. “No...dying of...boredom...”he feigned sputtering death noises.

“Fine. We’ll have a grand burial for the Crown Prince, then. The whole country will mourn a young life lost. There will be wine and incense everywhere,” Kaiba said, monotone.

Mokuba opened one eye. “Only if there’s white horses,” he said, and stuck his tongue out again.

“They’ll be black.”

Mokuba kicked Kaiba’s thigh. “Mean.”

Though Jounouchi vaguely heard the entire encounter, and he was laughing when Anzu was laughing, he wasn’t sure entirely what he was laughing at. His body was focused infinitely on the scales as they began to shudder, gentle at first, like the wind pushed them. It only became greater, just as the voices in his head did. He laid down a card, but it slipped out of his fingers and he braced his hand against the table, reaching out for the blue-eyed dragon that Kaiba had played early on.

He began muttering in the same twisted tongue whispering in his ear.

“Jou?”

Overwhelmed, Jounouchi struggled to even hold his head upright. Anzu was at his side, bracing to hold him upright and prying the cards from his hand. He kept muttering off the language like he was master, but none of the words made sense to him. Was it even him speaking. Before long, the world went black and heavy. He floated...floated...

—

Kisara’s sedan chair settled down in front of Ishizu’s apartment. The outside door was decorated with long draperies and spindly trees were laid to the sides. Inside, the courtyard was a flourish of life. Peacocks strutted about; little ducklings marched from pond to pond. Different birds fluttered above and rested on overarching branches that welcomed her towards the porch.

Her place was demure on the inside. Austere in colour and style, with the finery hidden in the details. Ivory and jade etched in the furniture, simple silver threads in the rugs and linens. Even her tea set was plain. Sometimes, she thought Ishizu put too much work in looking simple. One glance at the vanity and she could see that she was just the same as every wife. Her cosmetics, broaches and jewellery exploded over edge and onto the floor, as if she had no idea where to place it. A single, withered orchid hung in the corner mirror.

“The Empress arrives,” Ai announced as Kisara drifted into the room.

Miho and Ishizu bowed before returning to their seats. One of the maids poured hibiscus juice and offered her watermelon on sticks. She was happy to nibble.

“What brings you here, Your Majesty?” Ishizu asked.

“Not much,” Kisara replied. “I haven’t seen you in a while, and I wanted to talk.”

“About?”

Kisara knew it was easier to dive right into this. “I wondered if perhaps I could speak with your brother again. He was very interesting when Seto and I met him but—,”

“He’s not familiar with the language,” Ishizu interrupted.

“Yes. I thought you could act as interpreter as I haven’t seen much of the delegation.”

“They’re here, but they keep to themselves. They’re mostly enjoying the city. Waiting for the weather to pass,” Ishizu replied. “As for Marik...he’s been ill and withdrawn.. I’m lucky if he comes and sees me for lunch. But I’ll pass it along.”

“I hope he gets better. If he does, I look forward to speaking with him. You talk so fondly of him.”

Kisara sucked in a breath. She couldn’t shake the absolutely tired feeling that she had been carrying for the last two months or so. She felt forever drained and couldn’t sleep, never comfortable. Plus the nausea when she would go for long distances. The watermelon was a pleasant change. It hadn’t made her want to push it away immediately.

“There’s something else on your mind though, isn’t there?” the Consort prodded.

“There is. I needed advice about the juniors and hoped that Anzu was here with you so we could all discuss.” Kisara eyed Miho. The girl acted like she wasn’t listening, chomping down on the watermelon. “But I admire your insight. You keep me level.”

“How can I help?” Ishizu asked, smiling to herself.

“I’m at an impasse. It’s been a while since we’ve had much to celebrate, and the last concubine promoted was Miho. We won’t have a party until perhaps the Ghost Reverence and,” Kisara rolled her shoulders, “I was debating it. I couldn’t come to anything conclusive.”

“Did you have someone in mind?”

“Plenty. The Noble Consort position has yet to be filled. It is making some ministers restless since it’s so strange. Plus we have two Serving Attendants who have both fulfilled their duty.”

“I don’t know if I would consider either of them. One clearly has been here too long to continually catch Buruaizu’s attention. And the other...well, he’s too new, I believe. And causing too much commotion. I think we should wait until he’s learned to behave better.”

“Mm. Perhaps.”

“But you should submit the idea about Noble Consort to Buruaizu.”

Kisara smiled. From the door, Ai was glaring daggers at the back of Ishizu’s head. The empress softened. “I’ll consider it. But I’m also going to suggest Katsuya, once his behaviour tempers.”

“I really wouldn’t. Even if he does.”

“And why not?” Something swirled in Kisara’s head. She figured it was anger, and kept it at bay.

“Because it’ll just go straight to his head. And I don’t see why he should be rewarded when he was just punished for his transgressions,” Ishizu said. My, what a chilly calmness she had. “You’re still coddling him.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.” Ishizu leaned in close. “He’s still a man, even if we call him a wife. In the end, all he’s going to seek is power in the way only a man can. Imagine if, perhaps, Buruaizu never promotes a Noble Consort so he can make Attendant Katsuya one, when the time is right. I think only about you and Buruaizu in this,” she said, touching Kisara’s arm. “He’s dangerous. Most men are dangerous and two-faced.”

Kisara pulled her arm away. The pain in her head and stomach became intense, blinding, until her eyes flecked with tears. The cold feeling wasn’t so different from her meeting with Marik and Mahad, but worse. She felt paralysed, hearing broken words in Old Tongue. Jounouchi’s voice overlapping with someone else’s. Her stomach clenched, feeling the resonating energy she shared with Jounouchi before.

She caught the fringes of her glowing out of the corner of her eye.

“I...”

“My lady, it’ll be alright. I’ll go get a doctor!” Ai panicked and ran out door.

Kisara wilted against the table.

—

Jounouchi’s eyes opened.

There were no dreams this time, just dark. He wasn’t out for long, he supposed. His head was propped up on Kaiba’s lap, fingers stroking his jaw and pushing his hair one way and then the other as the strands refused to stay still. He weakly smiled, and Kaiba looked down. Worry and fear swirled in Kaiba’s eyes.

Jounouchi closed his eyes.

“Pup?”

“Hm?”

“Say something.”

“Somethin’.”

The back of his hand pressed to Jounouchi’s forehead. Another hand pet his head. It felt nice. He lulled for he didn’t know how long, waiting for a doctor he imagined. Kaiba was barking orders at everybody.

“I have good news and bad news, sire,” Jounouchi heard Isono say.

“Bad news.”

“The primary physician is tied up with Her Majesty at Consort Ishizu’s apartment.” Jounouchi’s stomach sank a little bit, and he tried to lift up but was pressed down by Kaiba’s hand.

“And the good news?” Kaiba demanded.

“Her Majesty is pregnant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much going. :3 there’s a lot to be addressed here and some of the drama is ramping up around different things. 
> 
> Tell me what you think about....anything. Thank you!


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